Prisoner of the Night
by Alene Deirbre
Summary: "And I can't explain what was happening to me, all I can say is it felt like I was drowning…" what if there was more to Matt's cave then what we were allowed to see? what if it had taken him to the dark ocean?
1. Caught off Guard

A/N: hi this is the fanfic author formally known as Saint Reed. I wasn't too fond of my old name so I'm trying out this new one.

Anyway on to important matters. This is the first chapter in a new serious that I was thinking about doing. The fic centers on Matt and has a great deal of angst and some torture. I've actually had this idea for a long time, and since I have a slight case of writer's block on Lord of the Nightmare Soldiers, I decided to put some of this down and see how well it goes over.

This is basically coming from the idea that there was more behind Matt's cave than we got to see. I believe that if the writers for Digimon had the Dark Ocean idea developed in time Matt would have ended up there sometime during the first season. But since the dark ocean really wasn't introduced until the second season we never got to see Matt's real struggle with it. So now I've written a fic (well this first part of a fic) that will show what I think might have happened if Matt had actually been taken to the Dark Ocean.

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN DIGIGMON

Prisoner of the Night

Part one: Caught off Guard

And you tried so hard to fit in the light,

But you know you are a prisoner of the night.

And a few more pebbles skid down the path, rolling over soil and bouncing every time they passed over uneven dirt levels before returning to their motionless state, only to be kick by the brown boot and sent into motion again. The small gray stones skipped down the path, making no noise under the abuse they were suffering. They simply followed the laws of physics jumping as the boot connected with them, and then rolling until the force of the blow faded and there was no energy left to send them further. Finally the boot that threw the pebbles from their original spots abounded them, leaving them in the place they last fell and disregarding them as it passed over and continued its trek down the path.

__

You push them down the path, giving them the strength they need to move forward, hoping that eventually they will learn to travel on their own. But you eventually realize that for all your effort nothing changes. You're still pushing them along, and neither of you is moving very fast. Then all the strength you put into holding them up begins to wear you down until you're broken and too weak to move yourself.

"But was it worth it? Did it even do any good? No, of course it didn't, because if it did then you wouldn't be here now."

Four feet lightly pounded the ground as two figures silently walked down the ever-darkening cave. Two yellow clawed paws hit the ground trying to keep in pace with the two brown boots that gently walked over the obscure path, heading deeper into the cave. The first figure was a small creature so amazing with its bright colors and mythical horn that he looked like the product of a child's daydream. Dark yellow scales covered most of the reptile's body. With a long lizard like tail, almost dragging pudgy arms, and a round belly with a bright blue design decorating his chest and stomach, the little reptile would almost seem unsightly. But this particular beast had a natural softness about him. His crimson eyes glowed with warmth, and his awkward snout almost always seemed to curve up in a goofy grin. But the articles that made this small chubby monster seem magical was his fur coat, that he always wore, and the yellow horn that always stood on the little rookie's head.

The second figure was less conspicuous, but was still a sight for any onlooker. It was a boy, who was far too young to be in a strange world fighting against digital monsters, but was also more solemn then any other being that every treaded this world of data. He had long spiky blonde hair that fell over his face casting small shadows on his ghostly pale skin. His head was hung low as he dragged his feet down the center of the cave. His once amazing cerulean eyes had turned dull, and with each passing second a shadow crept over the usually shining orbs poisoning them with its obsidian cloud.

__

That's how it was with my family. When my parents first started fighting I did everything in my power to make them stop. Every time they'd raise their voices it felt like insects crawling into my ears, scarping against my eardrums with their prickly legs. They left small scars in my head that never heal. Even once the scratching ended and the insects died, blood still poured from the scrapes that their angered voices gave me. And I tried everything to make them stop. I pleaded with them, begged them to just love one another, but love is too difficult. They loved each other enough to sleep with one another and start a family, but they didn't love each other enough to be silent. And I tried, I help with the cooking, cleaning, taking care of TK, but they still scarred me. I pushed them as far as I could, and now I'm tiered.

"You gave up… that is what's wrong with you. You're too weak. Anytime things get too difficult you just give up, not caring who you hurt once you've drop your share of the weight."

Black walls of ruff stone reached from the dusty ground high above the two figures connecting in an arch, locking them in shadow. The cave stretched on as far as the two figures could see. It appeared to have no definite end, and to the smaller of the two it seemed like a tunnel. A blacken road leading the travelers blinding down into the depths of the earth. You could almost feel the deceit of the cave. Before entering it looks harmless, the perfect escape from the cool openness of night, but once inside you find that it is more complex then it appeared. It was like the esophagus of a demon, black, cold, leading down into the best's belly; perhaps even leading down to the fiery furnishes of Hell. But these thoughts never seemed to cross the boy, as he simply continued to trudge deeper into the cave.

__

I was just too tried to keep trying, and too angry to care. They told me they were getting a divorce and all I could do was whisper a simple "I hate you" and walk away. That's what I do, when something gets too hard I give up and walk away.

"You didn't care that by giving up you hurt TK, you just wanted to rest. How selfish"

The small monster's eyes darted from one gray wall of the cave to another. He moved defensively through the blackened night, his snow-white fur-coat contrasting with the caliginous atmosphere of the den, causing him to stand out like a beacon of light in the adumbration. 

"Matt, maybe we should turn back. I don't like the look of this cave." the little rookie managed to mutter through anxiety.

"Whatever" came the dejected reply.

Matt continued to walk. His hands shoved into his pockets as he bit the side of his mouth in thought. The mist grew thicker. The dark fog poured upon the two companions, creeping to them from the unseen corners of the cave. It floated around them like a curtain, blocking out all reason and light. Matt saw nothing beyond the dark mist. Nothing beyond his fear, his sorrow, and his loneliness. The confusion that always seemed to flood his mind was now pounding on his head with a sound hating migraine. 

The air was poisoned, tainted with evil. Evil created by self-hatred. It was thick and heavy, and the hazy air pushed down upon the two, weighing them down so that each step taken in the cave was like agony on the body. Each breath was filled with corruption. The oxygen would enter the companion's nostrils, travel down to their lungs, and then enter their blood stream sending the poison of the cave into every limb of their bodies. 

The small monster had a defense from the tainted air, his clear mind and optimism allowed antibodies to attack the intruding poison and fight it off with thoughts of hope and love. But the boy had no such defense. He had no protection from the darkness filling his lungs. The blows that life constantly gave him had long since left him battered and broken. Too unhealthy to fight against the disease infecting him. He could find no hope in his life. No hope for himself, and this made him weak to the illness of depression. The virus of sorrow and defeat infected his body filling his bloodstream with the poison in the air.

If he had been more conscious or cared more for himself then he would have realized the attack upon him. He would have seen that the disease within him was growing and slowly destroying him. But his headache and confusion still weakened his thoughts, allowing him to only dwell on pains from the past. He still felt what was happening to him. He still felt his blood run cold to the point where it was like slits of razor sharp ice flowing through his veins, but he didn't care. He liked the pain. He liked the feeling of dying. Of become cold and numb. A part of him loathed what he desired, but another part lived only to breathe one last time.

He felt drained; he could fill the poison in his mind. His lungs where filled with the murky black, and his blood now carried this diseased mist to his head. The chilling air shattered his headache making all pain vanish as he slowly slipped into torpid breaths.

"I've been living a lie!" 

The distant boy announced firmly though his voice leaked with distress.

"You're not a real blonde?" Gabumon asked in bewilderment. He wasn't sure what his partner could mean, and he hoped the innocent answer would at least put a smile on his friend's stone face.

Matt didn't seem to hear the little rookie, but he still replied with an involuntary and pitiful "No". 

He breathed out the word as he fell against the rocky wall. He hit the wall hard and the impact sent a jolt through his spin, but he could only inwardly laughed at the pain before sliding to the ground and landing just as hard on the dirt.

His mind went blank of all conscious thought. Memories took over and no matter how hard he tried he could not fight back the images of his mistakes. They flashed in his mind, and with each picture of his own incompetence and worthlessness came a voice narrating the stories behind the scenes. 

The voice would sneer and say, _"look here is where you got jealous and started a fight with Tai. How pathetic, you not only let your jealousy win you over, but you couldn't even finish the fight you started. How weak, how worthless."_

A few moments of silence and then the image changed. 

__

"And here is where little TK and you got separated. You couldn't even keep watch over your own brother. Leomon nearly killed him because you couldn't protect him."

__

But I got there as fast as I could! 

Matt tried to argue back, but deep inside he knew the voice would win. How could you beat yourself in an argument? It was a never-ending cycle. 

He knew his transgressions, knew them each by heart. He tortured himself by bringing up every flaw in his life. Sometimes he would try to offer some feeble excuse for his sins, but the defense never worked. And now he was tried of arguing. Tried of trying to convince himself that he was worthy of living, when he knew very well that all he deserved was death.

__

"And here is where you let Cherrymon convince you to fight Tai. You slowed the group down and put them in danger. How selfish, you're selfish. You don't deserve to exists."

__

But I was deceived. I was confused, I didn't know! I didn't mean it.

Matt pleaded with the voice, begging his own conscience to grant him mercy, but it was no use. He wouldn't allow himself peace.

__

"A worthless little brat like you doesn't deserve peace. Why don't you just do the world a favor and fade out of life forever! You're only tainting it with your selfish ways. You're only slowing the group down. You're only teaching TK to be an insensitive jerk! You're pathetic. You're weak!"

"All this time I thought TK needed me, but I was the one who really needed him."

__

I needed to be needed, is that so wrong? Of course it is; everything I do is wrong. Why am I here? I must be a mistake, that has to be it. God spent so much time on creating the others that when he finally came to me all he had left was the broken pieces. Pieces that didn't fit in any real person. Pieces of vanity, anger, and worthlessness, that's what I'm made of. Broken pieces, results of sin and all that is useless.

"Now you're finally beginning to understand; you are nothing but a mistake. You're a problem, a flaw in the grand plan that will bring peace to the two worlds. You only cause more trouble; you can't even get your own crest to glow. Nothing but a mistake…"

And his conscious faded leaving him with this new affirmation. He was broken. It was like some desolate puzzle. Complex in design but ugly and misshape in form. Each piece was made from a different flaw or vile mistake. Each time he spilt the milk was painted onto a piece. Each time his father would yell at him for his grades was carved deeply in another piece. Each lonely night in a dark apartment was sketched in perfect realism upon a piece, and each piece that made up the decrepit puzzle was proof of his worthlessness. The puzzle was large and intimately crafted, carved, shaped and decorated with deceit, depression, anger, fear, and any other negative emotion that could add its mark to the young Destined's life.

And the mist grew thicker. The cloud of depression began to settle on the boy, it slowly caressed his skin. Its icy hand touch him slowly making its way down his body, sending chills through his slouching form. 

Matt pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He curled up as small as he could and then lowered his head to his folded arms.

__

"Even now your friends are out there fighting, and where are you? You're hiding of course. Hiding in a corner like some terrified toddler. Even your little brother was strong and brave enough to fight with the others. What makes you so different? Why can't you stand with them?"

__

I don't know.

The argument continued in his mind and all Matt could do was listen. On one side his voice screamed at him, verbally abusing him. Toying with his emotion and knowing exactly what to say to hurt him.

The other side was what was left of him. He quivered both mentally and physically, as all he could do was whimper back meaningless answers.

Gabumon was frightened, confused, and slowly slipping into frantic. He didn't understand what was wrong with his partner. Matt was fading. The light in his eyes had already turned dull. The cloud in his mind could now be seen clearly through the windows of his soul. The tenebrous in the air seemed to be sinking into the boy. Matt's skin slowly began to lighten and grow cold. His eyes glazed and he grew more distant with each passing second.

The small rookie wished that the howling wind would find its way into the cave. Just a simple breeze would blow away the attacking mist and everything would be find. His friend would wake from his trance like state, and the two of them would leave the cave and never speak of it again. If only the wind would blow.

__

I feel it. Its so hard to explain, but I know its there. Another presence. A dark being, it's in the air. I can feel it fighting over my soul. I can hear swords clanging as demons and angels wage war, but over what? Why would either put in so much effort over me? What good have I done either side? And the Demons are winning. I know they are. I can feel them holding me down. I can feel their strong grips and sharp claws digging into my body. 

The mist grew thicker and now Gabumon could barely see his partner. The black fog circled around the boy like vultures circling lifeless road kill. The boy was the perfect prey. He was antisocial and didn't understand certain human concepts of love. He couldn't grasp the meaning of his crest, though he lived it everyday. He was the perfect prize for darkness. One of the most powerful Digidestined, consumed with depression. 

I feel so cold, and so tiered. I'm falling; no falling isn't the right word. It feels more like I'm sinking. Like there is some heavy weight pulling me down to the bottom of tundra waters. It's just as well. If I was at the bottom of the sea then I couldn't screw up anyone else's life.

He was fading, like when the television station doesn't come in clear. Gabumon was scared, he was loosing his partner, and he wasn't sure who he was loosing him to.

The mist had its prey. It griped him tightly knowing that if it made one mistake it would loose its only opportunity to claim this prize. It was not just convenient that the darkness should claim this child, but it was also tantalizing. He would be the prefect tool to feed the world of lost souls. Powerful and alone. The perfect weapon against the light. And the darkness would not let him go. No matter how hard he fought, it would hold on to him. It was a part of him. And now he belongs to it.

__

And I can't explain what was happening to me, all I can say is it felt like I was drowning…

~*~*~

A bit vague I know, but this is just the begging. There will be more of a plot once it goes a little further into the story. So please review, tell me if you would like me to continue this. I'm not going to continue unless people want me to because I am working on another fic, and I don't want to write this and have no one read it. Also please tell me what you thought of it. Was it good? And if so what made it good, or was it bad? And if so what made it bad. I really want opinions on this so I can know what direction to take the fic, if I choose to continue it. Well please review and have a nice day. bye, bye.


	2. The air is as dark and cold as night

A/N: well here is the next chapter. Sorry for the wait, but I've been changing from Lord of the Nightmare Soldiers to this fic, so it might take a while for me to get these chapters out.

Akino Ame, yes I did get a lot of inspiration from whatever it was that they showed Matt drowning in. 

WildfireFriendship, sorry I didn't mean to sound greedy or anything. I just didn't want to put any focus on this if no one found any interest in it, because that wouldn't be fare to the people reading Lord of the Nightmare Soldiers. But you are right, I did sound way too demanding, and I greatly apologize.

And yes Betty I like to torture Matt, but I only do it out of love. Also congratulations on joining FFN, I will be expecting some great stories from you. (No pressure or intimidation was meant by that remark)

Oh and thank you to everyone who reviewed: Sakura kura, Quantum Weather Butterfly (I like that pen name, tis' cool), Penny, and Ella J. W. Your reviews were all very much appreciated. 

I hope I didn't get any names incorrect, I'm doing this by memory (and not a very good memory mind you)

Well enough of my… please read, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, nor do I own this computer I'm using, but they say it will be mine with seventy-two easy payments of 19.95. 

Prisoner of the Night

Part two: The Air is as Dark and Cold as Night

****

Maybe this world is a barren place 

For a soul prone to get lost,

But heaven still hounds from 

The smallest sounds

To the cries of the storm-tossed

The inky water held onto its victim, smothering him painfully in its black depts. The liquid of this great ocean was as thick as blood, it sunk into the victim's pours clogging them with residue and blocking out all oxygen. The victim kicked and struggled, desperately trying to find his way to the surface, but the murky brine continued to hold him tightly, and strong currents forced him further down, causing all efforts for escape to end in vain.

Matt's body ached; it took all the strength he had to force his tiered limbs to fight against exhaustion and pain. He closed his mouth, tightly locking his jaw, as he continued to kick and paddle. His arms went up reaching for the end of water and the beginning of air. The salt in the water burned his flesh like acid. It ate at his epidermis and fought to get to his eyes, but Matt had his eyelids shut hermetically protecting his sight from the poisonous fluid trying to make its way in. He tried not to gag and choke as some of the salty diluent slipped into his mouth, burning his tongue just as it had the rest of his flesh.

He wasn't sure how long he had been engulfed in the fluid; he wasn't sure how long the black salty water had been eating away at his skin, nor was he sure how long he had been fighting futilely against the heavy currents. But he was certain of one thing, if he didn't get air soon he would die.

The water was so thick that when it filled his nostrils it infected his sinuous cavity, causing it to ache and the pressure in his head to grow. His lungs began to cramp as his fighting body burned all the oxygen left in his veins, feeding it to his muscles, and leaving him with no air to fuel his life. Matt could feel his lungs begin to burn and his muscles ache and weaken. Now all that was left to aid in his struggle for survival was adrenaline. The natural instinct to fight triggered, and soon his body was functioning with strength the pre-teen didn't know he possessed. His hands plunged through the viscous brine as his legs kicked back and forth. 

He struggled not knowing if his fighting was getting him any closer to his goal, but still he continued to fight. He didn't dare open his eyes; the polluted water would only eat away at the cerulean orbs, as it was eating away at his fair flesh. All he could do was continue to kick against the bleak water, hoping that his strained muscles would not give out before he broke the surface of the impermeable film. 

His lungs were now burning, feeling like they would soon collapse; and cramps tightened his sore limbs making every movement lancinating. Hope seemed to fade with every failed attempt to reach the periphery. And now the tormented pre-teen was beginning to give in to the cloud of hopelessness that filled his mind. 

Death was inevitable, completely inescapable, and yet he had never envisioned himself dyeing so long. The dejected boy never saw much of a future for himself, nor did he believe he'd amount to much; but he still never pictured it all ending before he even had a chance to prove his own credence wrong. Now he was still fighting, but he wasn't sure why. 

__

Isn't this what I wanted. Isn't this what I deserve. I don't deserve to live; therefore death is the only remaining path. And that's what I deserve, to die here alone, in this dark cold water. Who knows, maybe this ocean could wash away some of the filth that has collected on my life, and leave my floundering soul and body cleaner. Maybe the pain I'm feeling now is punishment for my selfish ways, and once its over I will be pure. Or maybe it will continue to eat away at me, until I can no longer hide under the image of a rebellious teen, and all the world will see how truly black I am. Either way it doesn't matter, this is where I am meant to be, this is where I deserve to be.

One hand broke through the thin line of film accumulating at the surface of the ocean. The pollution in the water only seemed to get stronger on the surface. The acid like brine mingled with the toxic air becoming a thick poison on the waves. 

Matt was surprised and bewildered at how he could have fought all this time, and only at the moment when he had accepted his fate, did the aquatic prison released its hold. If he had more time to consider this, his skeptical mind would come up with the theory that the ocean itself had wanted it this way. That it had held him tightly, shackling him to its frigid depths, until his will to go on had been shattered by constant defeat. Now the boy was broken, and the will to continue was barely present. His spirit had been weakened making him the perfect instrument to fuel the very darkness that now ate away at his soul.

Matt tore at the film on the water until at last he was able to reach the surface. He came up, still kicking and fighting against the invisible weights, chained to his failing body, and breathed in deeply. One long breath was taken; filling his lungs with the fumed invested oxygen, and fueling his body with some energy. Matt was relieved, he took in another couple of quick breaths, and soon grew excited by his victory over the currents; only to have a large wave of black water come crashing down on him sending him back under the murky liquid.

The force of the wave hit Matt with a heavy blow knocking his wind out, and holding him under the water with great force.

Matt shut his eyes tightly against the pain and the brine. His chest now ached and he, out of instinct, opened his mouth to breathe. The inky black water filled his mouth, it tasted like pure salt, and it burned at the small cuts in his mouth caused from him biting down on his check. The acidic fluid made its way down his throat, burning the lining in his wind pipe, and filled his lungs. From his lungs it entered his bloodstream invading his body like a cancer, eating away at him. The liquid continued its rampage through the boy's body, and soon the combined attack from the water outside and the poison inside caused Matt to lose conciseness.

__

Am I dead? Can the dead be in so much pain that they wish they were dead? Does that even make any sense? I never really thought about death much, but this isn't exactly what I had expected. And it's so cold, and dark. Isn't that simply another way of saying deceased, cold and dark. Maybe this is like the middle stage; maybe I'm somewhere between life and death. Or maybe… maybe I was never alive to begin with. I don't know, and it doesn't really matter… all that matters now is that I am cold, and it's very dark.

The sound of waves washing up on moist sand, slowly reaching for land untouched by its chilled hand, mingled with the howling wind to create a melody of nature's drums and pipes. The cinereous clouds inched slowly across the sky, never once creating an opening where light might brake through, warming and illuminating the dreary world. The air was dense, polluted by adumbration, inclement, and the ever-present feelings of despair and fear.

The world was a wasteland. A desolate landfill created from every impure, vile, or hopeless thought that passed through its captives. It would lore the unsuspecting victim into a trap, created by the impurity within the creature of free will's soul, and then drain the soul taking both the good and the bad, using what should be a gift to destroy life. The world was contaminated with negative feelings, and now a new victim had been found. 

A boy, young innocent, but potent with life, and a strength that could feed the darkness for an eternity. A child with an inner power that could easily destroy the darkness, if the soul was aware of its strength. But ignorance is a weakness, and this prize knew nothing of his significance. He found no value in his own life. It is easy to disregard one's own life when there was never another to tell you that you **did** belong. 

__

My head hurts; so does the rest of my body. That ocean… the water was like… when my family split up, or like when TK told me he didn't need me anymore. TK…

I wish I could have been a better brother for you. I wish I could have been what you wanted. But you're better off where you are, and I was better off in that ocean. I was better off feeling my punishment in full and unmerciful blows. I don't know why I even fought to get out… it would have been better if I had drowned. After all isn't that what I have been doing all this time. When our parents first staring arguing the water rose with the confusion. 

How can a child possibly grasp the concept that their parents, the two people they care for most in the world, hated each other? 

They didn't have to fight! They could have worked it out! But they were too selfish. And that's when I began to drown. I've been sinking ever since. I should have just stayed in the ocean. Why did it have to through me out! Am I too worthless to bother with drowning? Was that stupid water too good to have my decaying body in it? Or do I just not deserve the peace of dying the way I've lived… alone and in the dark.

The wind continued to blow, the icy chill stroked over the lying boy, caressing his raw skin and matted hair. The breeze played with the defeated pre-teen, tossing his golden but knotted hair in his face, and flowing smoothly over his flesh sending small shivers through his sore body. The waves from the polluted ocean continued to rap in perfect rhythm on the shore, the sounds of the ocean was the broken destined only comfort. A constant beat that formed a beautiful rhythm with the pounding of his strained heart.

Slowly Matt opened his eyes expecting to either see a blinding light or a darkened tunnel, but instead he was greeted by a vacant beach absent of color, and deranged in appearance. As he blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the twilight atmosphere, he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows giving himself a better position to observe his surroundings.

Putting his weight on his scabbing arms, vaguely noticing the throbbing pain in his joints and the stinging jolts running through his entire body from both wind and sand hitting his raw flesh, he forced his spinning head to concentrate and his blurry vision to clear.

Is this hell, or some twisted version of my nightmares? Maybe the digital world has it's own version of life after death and this is it. But that doesn't make any sense, don't digimon come back as digi-eggs after their data has been reconfigured? So this can't be a digital version of hell. Maybe this is the place where digimon who can't be reconfigured go… but wouldn't that make it a digimon's hell? Or maybe this is just another nightmare….

A frail body, beaten and left bruised from crashing waves, sat on the gray sands of the sepulchral beach. Mirthless azure eyes ran over the melancholy wasteland, locking on every conspicuous landmark and structure that they reached before shifted to the ashen sand. 

There's nothing, nothing that matters anyway… this must be a place for meaningless objects

Grizzly sand, in some places as dark as ash, and in other as light as salt stretched on down the beach. Blackened water went far into the horizon until it meet with a murky gray sky, which was slowly darkening to black. Gloomy clouds hung low in the sky, locking the victims into the world by providing a ceiling that was as depressing and obscure as the water. A thick blanket of atrabilious fog settled onto the dark ocean like collective feelings. Feelings settling upon a tedious soul, ready to sink into the water, joining the two moistures together so that every fog of depression that flooded the sky raised the level of water in the dark ocean.

Matt's arms soon began to ache from the strain of holding his upper body up, and he was soon forced to relive the pain by pulling up his arms and flopping back down on the sand like a rag-doll. His back landed lightly on the soft dirt, but the force still knocked some breath out of him, and more pain shot through his vertebra, as his back bone pushed out on his flesh and pulled his weary muscles from their earlier position. His eyes blackened for a moment before light flooded back in, and now he lay tiered on the sand concentrating on nothing by the tiny slits of silver dancing around his line of vision. 

The illusion of stars was more intriguing then getting up or trying to seek a way out of his new prison. He knew the tiny shreds of silver light weren't really there, and he knew that seeing them meant that more damage was done to his head then he felt at the moment, but that didn't take his interest away from the light show. It was far easier to focus on something, he knew wasn't really there, then to focus on the reality of his situation.

__

I wonder what causes us to have delusions. Stupidity? Chemicals? Or maybe Hope? Yeah I think that's it. You build up all this belief that no matter what happens things will eventually get better, but nothing does get better. You continue to lie to yourself, feeding the delusion that hope is real and worth feeling, then all this faith and hopeing lets you down. You through kindle to the fire, you tell yourself things like "this is only temporary", " things will get better", "its happened to others and they came out of it fine, so maybe there's hope for you". Little pieces of kindle feeding the fire of hope. You fan the flame with as much care as you put into building the fire, but this beautiful thing of warmth turns on you. The little thoughts that gave you comfort, only serve to empower the moment when all your dreams and hopes will die. The fire burns you. It reduces you to ashes, then fades out. 

Hope is an illusion; it's as fake as these stars.

Soon the stars began to fade, the silver light grew smaller and smaller, until at last the glow was no more. Now the young Guardian was left with nothing to distract him from the pain

__

I wonder if that is why doctors give you pain pills. Not to erase the pain, but to cause your mind to grow so weak that it can only focus or dwell on pretty colors and flashing lights. Maybe pain is simply all in the mind. 

He forced his battered body to sit up once more; this time raising up and pulling his legs in, until he was sitting straight and his legs were crossed. 

The wind took this opportunity to blare with full force, sending its icy hand to grip hard on the sitting boy, almost forcing him back to the ash colored sands. 

Matt ducked and pulled his knees into his chest hoping the tiny defense would allow him to keep, at least some, of his body heat, but the action seemed to have no effect considering the wind only blew harder, and his body began to shiver more violently then before.

__

I guess there's really no point in just sitting here. And to think I use to actually like the wind, and the cold. It was nice, the cold would numb your body, and the wind would beat on you with soothing blows that could take your mind as far as the wind itself could blow. But that's just stupid, thoughts are only good if you can put them to some form of action. Even if it is just writing them down.

He shook his head to clear his mind of the presence of pain, cold, hunger, and fatigue; putting all his attention upon one task, standing up. With a tiered sigh and an agitated grunt, Matt stretched out his body and slowly worked his way into a position that would be easy to stand from. He put his hands into the dark sand, feeling the way the dirt made its way into his opened cuts and rubbed painfully against his raw skin. Then he pushed himself up swaggering as he stood, and blinking several times as he fought against the attack of both a head ache and a dizzy spell.

Soon the blurry vision and the weakened limbs past, and Matt was looking around the area once more now from his higher view.

__

Not much out there, just a beach. Lots of rotting drift wood, a decaying fence with molding posters pinned on them, and the ocean.

That perfect ocean, perfect for finishing the job it started… later. I would love to drown, just like I have been for so many years. But… before I do I would like to at least figure out what this place is suppose to be. Maybe I will find someone who will deliver a message for me. I would at least like to tell TK that I finally got what I wanted… and what I deserve.

Like to free my brother of the burden that is I.

After some time of aimlessly treading through the ashen grit, Matt decided to change his direction and head inland. He found an entrance through the line of rotting fence and began to slowly wander through the narrow pathway. 

The further he went, the more he realized that this world was not only a world of darkness but also a world of repetition. Landmarks, shrubbery, flaking posters, all began to merge together. Each corner that was turned, only displayed the small relics as the path before. Every detail faded into one another, until the blonde found himself completely lost amongst the maze of wood, dirt, and dried brush.

__

I almost wish there was someone here with me, like Gabumom. But Gabumon can't be here, for some reason I know that. He doesn't have a place in this desolate world, but I do. I'm meant to be here, and I'm meant to be here alone, but still I wish he were here…

Matt soon lost interest and track of where he was and where he was going. The destination was already determined; it didn't matter how he got there, as long as he ended up there in the end. He could wander for miles, meet hundreds, and have countless adventures, but in the end he knew he would return to that ocean. He knew somehow he would see those black waters again.

__

I wonder how I even got to this stupid place? I didn't really think about it before, everything happened so quickly. There was a cave, and then that mist… that painful, heavy mist, and then the ocean. The horrible icy, burning, perfect water. Perfect for drowning in.

Suddenly Matt looked up. The ominous feeling of eyes upon him forced him to brake free from his reverie and scout out the source of his sudden anxiety. But there was nothing. No sound, no sign of life. His rational mind argued that he was simply being paranoid, but something deep within him knew that he wasn't alone any longer.

Matt continued to walk. He wasn't sure how long his trek had lasted. It only seemed like he had been walking for a few minutes, but when he looked around he realized that the fence was some ways behind him, and the ocean was no where in sight.

__

It doesn't matter; I'll come back to it eventually. It's not like there's any rush.

The land shifted from a flat sandy plane, to rolling hills of black grass. The ground looked like it had been scorched by a raging fire, and all that remained, of what might have been a beautiful cover of green plants, was died dried shrubs, and crisp scorched grass. 

The sky hadn't changed; it remained dark like the world had plummeted from its normal axis and sent beyond the sun's reach. An eternal eclipse ruled the sky, shackling every being in this world to the ways of the night. 

Night, when fear and darkness are at its strongest. When nightmares haunt child and parent alike. When alone is the most frightening way to be. 

__

Dad always left me alone at night. That was only more water to add to the pool I was drowning in. My parents fighting, the harsh divorce, being alone, being away from TK… all of it was water. Water under the bridge, as some might say, its too bad I fell off the bridge and landed headfirst in that water a long time ago.

The prize continued his trek, heading blindly into the arms of the captor. Darkness rose in the boy with each step he took. The eyes, that looked so hungrily upon its victim, brightened with pleasure at the malicious thoughts filling its head. How easy it would be to simply swoop down and devour this glorious trophy, but orders forbade it. The boy would soon know his place, but more time was needed. Time for the darkness to grow and nourish itself from the unsuspecting child. But it wouldn't be long now. The Digidestined of Friendship was already turning, and now it was only a matter of time, and carefully inflicted pain, before the boy would make the darkness invincible. 

~*~*~

Sorry for the short chapters. I know thus far the story has been pretty uneventful, but I promise things will begin to pick up in the next chapter. And once things do start going it will probably go by pretty fast, I have a tendency to draw my stories out too much, so this one will probably only be about five chapters, but a lot will be covered in the remaining chapters. (Of course I can give no promise that it will only be 5 chapters, but that was my original plan).

I hope this chapter didn't bore you too much, I'm not really a fan of pointless angst, so hopefully the plot (which is coming) will be able to make up for these first two chapters. Well opinions, critiquing, and criticism is always welcomed. Thank you for reading and have a very pleasant autumn. 


	3. I Swear I'll Take This One Lifetime

A/N: well I started out thinking I was going make this an opening to a series, so I didn't intend to give it that much thought, but I kept getting ideas and now I'm not really certain where this fic is going. This chapter is longer then the first two, and I think the chapters are going to keep on getting longer. I hope this part isn't a disappointment, if you get confused I apologize.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, your encourage means so much.

Disclaimer: I do not own digimon, however I do own Spectermon and Eidolonmon, so if you would like to use them just e-mail me.

Prisoner of the Night

Part Three: I Swear I'll Take This One Lifetime

****

We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.

We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.

We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,

Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:

It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,

The path of its departure still is free.

Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow:

Nought may endure but mutability!

From Marry Shelley's, _Frankenstein_

__

I hate trees. I use to love them. I loved how they provided cool shade on hot summer days, and how they provided a shield from the wind during winter. I loved how their leaves would turn all kinds of colors during autumn, like red, gold and orange, the colors of a warm welcoming fire after a day of being slaughter by frosty blows of wind. Nature's explicit painting inspired by time. I loved how these beautiful colors would eventually fall off leaving the tree bare in a winter wonderland. I loved how the leaves would grow back green and beautiful and the process would begin all over again, reminding us that life is a circle, and the only thing that last forever is that circle, you're born, you grow up, you grow old, and then die. In a way we're like the leaves, and the tree is like life. Each generation start young fresh and green, but eventually time takes its toll and we begin to loose our attachment to life. Then we fall, forsaken by the life we knew and left to it's a never-ending cycle, a fate we're all bound to.

The icy wind of the aphotic world blew through crisp black leaves, it rattled the dyeing leaves like an off tune wind-chime, sounding more like teeth chattering from the cold or fear, rather then rattling leaves. The forest that Matt had stumbled into was little better then the maze of rotting fences or the rolling hills of scorched grass. Thorn covered vines hung down from the canopy of branches and leaves, while strange moss grew on the tree trunks. It was dark, the tree's crowns blocking out what little light came from above, while the shrubs and bushes were decaying from the extreme amount of moisture in the air. The ground was wet and slick, and there were times when the blonde thought for certain he had fallen into a puddle of quick sand.

Matt had been walking for hours now. He had traveled so far inland that he could no longer hear the waves of the dark ocean beating upon the ashen sand, but the foreboding presence of those black depths still lingered in his mind, reminding him that those waters were only a journey away.

His brown boots hit the ground hard in frustration, making it difficult to free them from the sticky mud whenever he went to take another step. His brow was crinkled, his hands were buried deep in his pockets, and his mind was anywhere but in the forest.

__

I hate forests too. It was admits a bunch of looming trees and brush that I lost my life. I held on so tightly, I could feel sanity leaving me, even then. The stress of being in the digital world, watching over TK, and forcing my stupid crest to glow was just too much. But then TK didn't need me; the digital world didn't need me, as is evident by the fact that this piece of junk won't glow.

Matt ceased his disgruntled march, then reached his hand down his collar until his palm grasped the chain around his neck. He almost expected the crest to be gone, but relief flooded over him when his hand made contact with the necklace and he pulled out the pendant, allowing the chain to caress his neck and run over his hair as he removed the item from its former place.

__

I wonder if giving me this crest was the digital world's cruel idea of a joke. That has to be it, after all nothing in that stupid world was ever based on logic, telephone booths on the beach, mailboxes in a frozen wasteland, choosing children to safe the world. Everything was based on chaos, like my home before the divorce. Constant fighting with basic animal instincts, they fight over everything, devouring anything that gets in their path, not bothering to consider the consequences of their action, just like my parents. 

Matt soon lowered his hand, not bothering to return his crest to its place around his neck, and continued his trek to nowhere. It had gotten darker, the decrepit trees, with their twisted trunks seem to slink over more the further the blonde wandered. The wind no longer howled, and soon even the gentle breeze faded away leaving the land still and silent. The humidity began to grow without the wind to circulate the air, and a thick blanked of sticky fog settles over the muddy forest floor.

Everything about this place is wet, the ocean, the earth, and even the air. If only the water was fire, it truly would be a digital representation of hell then. Worthless souls forever locked in a fiery pit of despair, I think I'd fit right in. if the ocean couldn't wash my sins away then maybe a fire could burn them away, cleansing me deeper then water ever could.

The blonde was soon lost in is thoughts, being held prisoner by his own conscience, as his musing began to torment his mind once more. He would not allow himself forgiveness, nor would he allow himself peace from his own crucifixion.

With head bowed and shoulders slumped Matt continued to walk, all movement around him was ignored and his contemplation soon became a tool for the enemy lurking near by.

"It really is amazing how such a pretty little thing could cause so much trouble." An enticing voice chimed sweetly, lust evident in the voice's tone.

"I don't see how that little pest is going to help us accomplish our goals." A second voice snarled shattering the serene feeling the first voice's charming tone brought. "The only thing good about him is his blood, it's has the most intoxicating scent. We should drain it from his body, then stitch up his flesh and send it back to those other brats as a warning." 

Midnight blue eyes rolled in annoyance and the first being spoken once more. "You're so bestial, and you have no sense of vision." The soft feminine being replied, her tone still entrancing as her greedy eyes fell upon the oblivious boy treading through the forest. "But if you want your drink, then you shall have it."

The second figure's eyes lit up with hunger and he bent down low wishing to hear of how he could earn what he desired. "When, when may I drink from this child's life?" he questioned as excitement radiated from his glowing eyes, like a toddler waiting to learn of when he will receive a present from his parents.

"When our Master has his prize, of course." The female stated mocking the beast before her, and treating him like the toddler he was behaving as. "Retrieve the prize, but be careful not to damage him, then bring him to the fortress in the Black Mountains. Our Master wishes that we waste little time." the female being gave her command then waved her hand dismissing her companion.

Both turned to go their separate ways until the beast called back to his departing alley. "If I am not to damage him then how shall I receive my reward?" the beast question his voice gaining an edge of suspicion.

Deep blue eyes flash in aggravation turning from the color of a midnight sky to an icy silver glow before fading back to their normal color. The being's anger cooled and she turned around to address her companion.

"After we arrive at the fortress you may have whatever you require of him, even his flesh if you like, however the Commander of the Fortress wishes to see the boy whole and untainted before we begin our mutilation." 

The sweet reply seemed to satisfy the beast and with an apologetic bowed the creature took to the air in search of the prize all creatures of this dark world had been lusting over.

The first being watched as the creature flew into the distance getting lost amongst the black clouds, then smirked, pleased with her web of deceit.

'Fool, he has no idea what true significance that boy holds, none of them do.'

With that last thought the figure walked into the shadows merging with the darkness as though it was born of the same attributes, then vanished.

__

Every time I look at one of these trees I almost expect to see that smirking face looming down at me, as though I was some freshly unwrapped toy, ready to be abused by some ungrateful child. Growing up I think the only kids I ever heard complain about being bored where the ones with at least ten to twenty toys. It's just another sign of how our society takes all of its blessings for granite. But that doesn't matter, what matters is that I can relate to those toys. That's all I ever was growing up, a plaything, never a person. At first it was my parents, to them I was nothing but a prize to be won, they we're like two four year-olds fight over a rag doll that neither one was interested in, until they thought the other wanted it. It had nothing to do with the toy, it had everything to do with winning, you didn't want it but, you certainly weren't going to let the other have it. 

And somewhere in the arguing and tug-a-war, I was ripped apart, then no one wanted me. After all, who would want a broken toy, even if you **were** responsible for damaging it? The abuse of being someone else's plaything, rather then a person only escalated when I got to the digital world. I became nothing but a pawn in the world's war, I really don't think they even know what they're fighting about. It's a lot like our world, we've been fighting so long that even the cause of our hate has been forgotten, but still we keep fighting, as though it was a necessary factor in life. I'm tiered of hating and fighting. I'm tiered of my hatred ruling my judgment. I'm tiered of hating and fighting just because I'm told that it's my destiny. And I can't believe I was the only one in the whole group of Digidestined who saw through this Augean chess game. 

And I'm tiered of these trees. They remind me of him, he may have looked healthier, and maybe even more beautiful, but I think that if I had looked closer, I would have seen these decaying black trees instead of a large healthy cherry tree. I wish I could hate him for what he did, but I'm tiered of blaming my anger on everyone else. Sure the world's a screwed up place, but I should be use to it by now. And even if I wasn't use to being an abused plaything, that still isn't any excuse, why should I let the world define what I'm going to be? 

I am so tiered of these stupid trees, and I'm tiered of hating myself.

The beast glided through the air using the heavy breeze from the high altitude to whisk him to its destination. From its appearance you would never believe that such a thing could even get off the ground, let alone glide with such precision and speed. The creature was small but completely hideous, its slumped-over form barely reach five feet high, and its dark mahogany scales were brushed up and peeling in some places, this made the creature look more like a zombie, with rotting flesh falling from its body. The majority of its form was in cased in a large black egg, as though the creature had never fully escaped the digi-egg it had hatched from. Eight eyes were placed on both sides of its head while one final eye decorated the center of its deformed skull. With bulky limbs and small firm wings, the creature moved with amazing speed both on land and in the air.

"Where are you my little treat."

The beast hummed as its seventeen eyes blinked then focused in on the forest floor miles beneath it. He looked past the crisp black leaves and hanging vines, its incredible sight allowing it to see even the smallest detail on the forest floor, like a bent blade of grass, or a foot print made hours ago.

"Ah! So you have already been here have you?" the creature hissed in disappointment as it glided in a circle around the area like a flying predator. "But you are still near, yes. I can smell your delicious scent." 

Following its venatic instincts the creature continued its quest for its prey, following the alluring scent that only a true prize could have.

The beast circled around knowing that it could travel faster then the land stricken human, and that what would take hours for its prey to journey, would only take a few minutes for this superior hunter to trek. Black eyes continued to pierce through the trees, hunger shone brightly in the shallow orbs, as the scent of the boy grew stronger. 

A spark soon lit in the beast's eyes, as all seventeen of them landed on a small figure treading slowly through the shadowed forest.

"There you are my prey!" the creature announced in excitement as it slowly circled the area getting lower as it each pass until at last it laded in a tree some ways ahead of its approaching prey.

Matt 's head was lowered and his hand still grasped on to the tiny crest as he debated on whether it was worth keeping the item or not. 

__

It's not doing any good with me; I can't even make it glow. Maybe I should just through it away. It is worthless with me. Kind of ironic, the crest are suppose to be representation of the one who bares it, so I guess it's only fitting that I bare the one crest that is worthless, the one that clashes with all the others.

Matt stopped dead in his tracks, tears began to glisten in his fading blue eyes, but he refused to let them fall. His crest was worthless, that thought had always been there, but this was the first time that the revelation that he truly clashed with his fellow Chosen had arisen. He had always held on to the hope that maybe his place was to be the misunderstood member of the group, but now he truly felt, without a doubt, that he had no place with his friends.

Blue eyes shut to the world and Matt fell to his knees. His shoulder began to shake as he tried to hold back the sobs, his head bowed low and his eyes were shut so tightly that it almost hurt. Mud and water seeped into in jeans, making him colder then he was before, but the cold was the last thing that his mind registered.

__

I'm worthless, I have no destiny, I was just a toy, born only to amuse, and now that I'm broken I have no purpose. Now one wants to play with a broken toy. I'm just so tiered of hating life, I'm tiered of hating my place, and I'm tiered of hating myself.

Matt gripped his crest in his gloved hand. Mud now covered both the pendant and the brown glove. The cool from the mud reached sweaty palms, and soon the blonde's body began to shake not only from built up emotion but also from the cold.

The brake down eventually passed, leaving the pre-teen tiered and worn. Slowly the trimmers stopped and Matt opened his eyes. At first his vision was blurry from the unshed tears still coating his eyes, but after blinking a couple of times his senses returned to normal, only to reveal another reason for tears.

First his eyes met with four long scaled covered toes, then his eyes traveled up to a black shell before finally meeting up with a deformed head, covered in hallow black eyes, and a large mouth with long spiked bones that grew from its jaw like teeth.

For a moment the blonde simple looked up into the many dark eyes, his body began to shake once more as the creature's hot, reeking breath beat across his face.

The creature had all of its many eyes upon the boy on its knees, and a dry black tongue ran over its bone like teeth indicating what thoughts were flashing through its mind.

The creature took a step closer to the frighten boy, and Matt fell back intimidated by the beast's approach.

Soon Matt stopped staring and his mind gave him on simple command, run.

Quickly the blonde leapt to his feet and took off in the direction he had just come.

The creature sneered in amusement then chased after the boy on foot, running over the muddy ground with ease. 

Soon the sound of pounding feet faded and Matt skid to a stop. Panting heavily the blonde began to feel weak and dizzy from the chase, he hadn't eaten in two days, and he hadn't slept since the Digidestined returned to the digi-world. All of these factors made him want to give up and let darkness sweep over him, but the creature was still near, and Matt could practically feel its hot breath and thirsty eyes upon him.

Blue eyes scanned over the multitude of trees trying to take in every detail while trying to distinguish different shapes and shadows from the collective entity of the dark forest. Nothing could be made out, nothing that seemed out of place, besides the boy himself, and the blonde soon found himself wondering if he hadn't imagined the terrorizing beast and the exhausting chase.

He was about to surrender to his enervation when the sound of rustling leaves diverted his attention to a near by tree. The black leaves rattled for a moment then went still. Leaving the forest perfectly silent once more. 

Matt felt the silence weigh down on him, suffocating him in anxiety and leaving his tiered mind to torment him with his own nightmares. Soon shadows began to take awkward shapes, moving like eerie spirits over large tree trunks and muddy ground every time the clouds shifted. The blonde jumped then whipped around upon hearing more leaves rattle. One branch amongst the thousands of limbs in the forest moved with no sign of case. The leaves fell still once more and again Matt was left with nothing but his imagination and his fear for company.

The pre-teen gritted his teeth then decided to fight his fear and move forward. The first timid steps were painful, it seemed like weights had been placed on his ankles, locking him to the ground and holding him prisoner in the midst of decaying trees. Soon his steps got easier, the mud no longer clinging to his boots holding him down, and with each step he took he felt a little safer. Feeling trapped can cause some of the worse fear of all, no one wants to feel like they're stuck in one place, and now that he was moving the fear slowly began to fade and comfort came from progress.

Matt lowered his head once more and his trek began again. He embarked on his journey with no destination. His head was down and his mind had returned to its world of depressing daydreams, the only thing that matter was putting one foot in front of the other. 

Suddenly the blonde screamed out in pain and shock, then fell to the ground. Blood began to flow down the back of his right arm, and his back. It felt like four sharp daggers had been jammed into his shoulder, and had reached so deeply into him that they broke bone and ripped muscle. 

Tears of pain began to cloud the blonde's vision but he focused just hard enough to see the creature, a mutated dragon in cased in an egg, looming over him from behind. The creature sneered then licked his four long claws, each of which was dripping with Matt's blood.

"Your scent does not do you justice," the beast hissed with pleasure, "No, not at all."

Matt turned his body over so that he could look the digimon in its face. His elbows supported him, keeping his fresh wound from the earth below. Mud now clung to the blonde's clothes, and painted across his face, but the filth was obsolete, along with the blood dripping down his back. At the moment the only thing the child could focus on was the hideous creature, hovering by his feet.

"Ah such a delicious treat." 

At that moment the best lunged forward, ready to lock Matt's leg in his large jaw.

The Chosen's natural instincts to fight took over and with a defiant yell he swung his leg up, his boot connecting with the creature jaw. The best screeched in shock, then toppled back, from being knocked off balance.

Matt then took this opportunity to scramble to his feet, and within seconds he was down the path, running at full speed, trying to escape the creature after his blood.

The digimon jumped back to his feet, his strength and agility far greater then one would imagine. 

"A chase?" he sneered thoughtfully. "Yes I would love a chase, and a feast. His flesh and blood is to be mine! But… but the witch wishes that I take him to the fortress, our master wishes that he goes to the fortress. The witch, I would love to feast upon, if her blood was not so thin, but the Master's word is law." The creature continued to babble somewhat incoherently, as it debated on what to do with its fleeting prey. "The witch will have what she wants for now, yes, but only because our Master wishes it too."

With his actions decided the creature rose to the air, his many eyes scanned down the road. Matt had moved fast and was now far down the path, but this didn't seem to bother the creature. With a loud and commanding cry the beast released its most powerful attack, one perfect for a true hunter.

"Black Death Cloud!" 

A cloud aphotic, and bleak, carrying the cries of an innocent child, waking from a night terror in the dark alone, spread through the forest like a title waves rushing to shore. 

Matt looked over his shoulder as he ran, his blue eyes widened in dread as he saw the mist approaching him. The cloud in many ways resembled the mist from the cave, it was dark, but obsidian. It moved like a spirit risen from a grave, washing over the land with a vengeance. 

The black mist swept passed trees, freezing them in a case of black crystal. Fear drove Matt forward, he could feel the icy grip of the mist approaching him but still he ran. The wound on his shoulder continued to bleed, but had long since been forgotten, fatigue faded like a blanket of fog being dried by the sun, only to be replace with urgency.

"You can not escape me, my little treat." The deformed wretch chanted delightfully as his attack began to close in on his prey.

Matt ran blindly, paying no attention to the landscape around him. His eyes were clouded with tears and his mind was frantic with the need to escape, leaving him unaware of the root placed in his path. A surprised cry, and then the blonde tripped over the molded tree limb and tumbled to the other side, landing face first in the mud.

He quickly rose from his falling place, whipping the filth from his eyes and mouth, and then stole a quick look behind him. The look gained him little, for the moment his mind comprehend how close the approaching attacks was it was too late. The black cloud fell upon its victim, filling his lungs with a chill that froze his blood. The cold spread through his body and in less then a second he was frozen form the inside out. A crystal shell hardened over the lifeless teen, making him look like a statue, intelligibly formed of dark but lavish crystal.

The tented shells soon began to fade from the dying trees that the mist took captive. Now the forest return to its original state, with dying trees drooping over and concealing the mud covered paths winding through the blacken brush. The sticky fog settled upon the floor once more, and the moss, brittle bushes, and crisp leaves formed the morbid decorations of the grand woodland.

Matt was unconscious, still trapped within his mineral prison. His blood had stopped flowing, his lungs no longer drew breath, and his mind had drifted into a dormant state, as he remained preserved within the crystal.

Hot pants began to fog up the crystal, as the beast responsible for the attack circled its captive, barely able to contain its excitement upon seeing its own success.

"A true prize for our Master, and a delicious treat for myself." the creature mused aloud. "But it will not do to take you back in this state." The beast concluded as it raised its clawed hand and placed it upon the human statue. 

The black tent began to glow a bright orange, and the mineral began to melt away. As the rock melted and ran off the boy's body, the heat from the new spell reanimated his body returning him to full life. Soon tremors over took his body, and breathing became difficult, but the beast decided that despite its preys damaged condition the child would still live, and if given the time would be able to completely recover from the injuries.

"The witch will be upset, but that does not matter, I am not her lap dog." The creature exclaimed maliciously then roughly lifted Matt's unconscious form in its short crooked arms. "Now I will take you to the Mephistophelean Fortress, and we will truly see if you are the prize in which we have waited for."

With this decided and the task of keeping its prey for resisting its captor complete, the beast took to the sky once more, heading for the black peaks in the distance, where the Commander of the Fortress was waiting for their prize.

~*~*~

The wind pushed past the soaring beast, caressing its scale body as well as its prisoners flesh. Matt had yet to awaken from the creature's earlier attack, and he remained resting in the monster's grip. The digimon took little effort to ensure that his prey had a gentle ride, and nearly dropped the boy twice, but its destination was now below him. 

Black Mountains reaching high into the misty sky rolled down the earth in a large jagged range. The mountains were completely vacant of forests, allowing the beings of the world to gaze upon the landmasses naked coal bodies. No snow fell from the heavens to clothe the unsightly cliffs, leaving them bare, but despite their repulsive appearances the crooked marks where completely adequate to serve life. Many valleys scattered between the smaller peaks with soil suitable for farming, and with the extreme amount of moisture in the air and within the dirt crop growing was easy. The range was the perfect location for a fortress, the cliffs provided extra reinforcement for the structure, and the idea for planting a base there was conjured by a being far more intelligent and crafty then the beast landing on one of the fortress' walls.

"At last my little treat we have arrived." The mutated dragon stated with pride as it lowered its prize to the bricks.

The fortress was a well kept medieval castle, with large walls of black stone surrounding a courtyard, which seemed to be bigger then the actual castle. There were no doors on the castle gates, any creature wishing to enter would either have to fly or teleport to get in. statues of gargoyles sat upon the gates and roof of the palace, but no signs of living guards were anywhere to be seen.

"The witch must be waiting inside." The beast snarled, displeased that his employer did not have the courtesy to come met him. 

With a grunt the creature picked the unconscious boy back up and headed down the gate until he reach a large wooden door leading inside.

"You had better be right about this Spectermon." An eerie and almost sickly voice expressed, its melancholy tone seeming out of place for such a large digimon upon a magnificent throne of solid onyx. 

"I assure you Lord Mephistomon, this child is the one." A confidant voice, matching the one, which spoke to the beast earlier, replied gently.

Mephistomon, a large ultimate fallen angel digimon, nodded in response to his servant's words, but still no ease came to his empty black eyes. "If you are mistaken, then we shall both suffer the punishment," he reminded sternly his once timid voice gaining an edge of authority. "So explain to me how you can be so confident that he is in fact the one our Master seeks?"

Spectermon gritted her teeth, suppressing the urge to reply with a sarcastic remark such as, _because he is in the world of darkness yet he is still alive_, and lifted her head to respond. 

"My dear Commander," she exclaimed as she rose to her feet, a sly smile painted upon her lips. "Have you no confidence in me? Have I not proved to be a capable servant to this point?" she questions with mock offense. "But I understand your worry, so let me bring rest to your troubled mind." 

"Our first search was on too great a scale, having to visit the nightmares of every babe in order to find our prize, but once those fools in the Digital World found humans that could survive the exertions of passing from one world to another our search, which once consisted of millions, was reduced to eight." Spectermon paused for a moment, waiting for Mephistomon to respond to what she had just explained.

The ultimate fallen angel nodded, still wearily, but with less stress.

All that Spectermon had stated was true; the servants of darkness had wandered through children's mind for years. Every child from the smallest infants to the rebellious adolescence had been a target for their quest, but all of their searches had proven in vain. None of the children displayed the qualities necessary for what they had planed, and the fiendish servants had almost given up their search, after all every failed attempt had ended in the destruction of the unsuccessful. Now very few servants remained, and the prospect of fulfilling the darkness' wish had grown slim. They were running out of servants and children, leaving the darkness' followers with little hope for survival. 

Mephistomon was now in charge of the search, a great reward was to be given to the one who found the prize, but all the ultimate could focus on was his execution, which surly was coming soon, since it had almost been a year since he was positioned as commander. 

Just as it seemed that the prize would never be found, a neighboring world brought new interest back to the mission. This world had somehow located eight children who were actually capable of leaving their world and going to another. This had never been done before, very few beings could actually travel between worlds, and it was absolutely unheard of for humans.

The servants waited until this neighboring world brought the humans to the new dimension, after that the search was quick, only eight could pass through the gate, and one of these eight was the one the servants sought. At first it was uncertain of who it was. Many believed that it was the Child of Light, who did not make the original journey to the Digital World, and the probability still remained that it was this child, but Spectermon was convinced that the dejected pre-teen was the one, so she arranged to have him brought to the World of Darkness. Now the prize was here, and only one thing remained to be done, and Spectermon was going to see that it was done before Mephistomon or any of the other servants could interfere.

"Of course all of the eight proved to be very powerful, but this one had a single quality that I felt separated him for the others." The elegant digimon explained, her eyes lighting up a bit as her mind wandered to demented daydreams of her prisoner.

"And what quality is that?" the dark digimon questioned, a hint of excitement entering his voice. 

Spectermon pushed her fantasy aside and returned her focus to her Commander. "Simple, he is self sufficient. I know its not something you would consider hard evidence, but a human who depends upon others is both weak and more likely to brake from the strain."

"I still do not see how you can be so satisfied with such little denoting!" the ultimate bellowed exasperated with the female digimon.

"Well my Lord, unlike you I am not afraid of death." The arrogant reply only earned a grunt of anger from the fallen angel, but Spectermon was not shaken, she knew her show of fearlessness would draw Mephistomon to comply. "Oh, that snarling beast has returned with the child, should I commence?" 

She questioned showing pretenses of concern for her Lord's fear. Mephistomon had grown annoyed, but also embarrassed by his display of emotion, embarrassment and the need for redemption pushed the fallen angel into making a quick decision, and with a nod he waved his hand dismissing the female digimon before him.

Spectermon smiled then bowed before walking out of the throne room and disappearing into the dimly lighted corridors of the fortress.

Matt groaned as he was roughly dropped on the castle's cold stone floor. He felt groggy and could barely stay conscious. 

__

I don't understand what happened. It feels like I've been pricked all over my body by tiny needles. My shoulder stings, and my arm and ribs feel like they must be broken, or at least bruised. Fate can be so cruel, I must endure all this pain, but destiny will not grant me the one thing I want most, and that is to die, to feel nothing at all. And what was that… that thing that grabbed me? What does he want with me? What could anything want with me?

Matt groaned again as his ears picked up the sound of heavy panting, coming from a source above him. He knew that whatever had abducted him must still be near, and the thoughts of more torture made him wish that he would pass out again. 

__

Everything in this world is so cold and dark, like a cold winter's night, one without the beauty of snow. The chill from space has fallen from the heavens and crashed to earth wrapping everything in darkness and frost. Winter can be so beautiful when the sun is up to warm and illuminate the world, but once the lights are out we become a prisoner of the night, locked away and shackled to a world without a sun, a world without warmth, love, or light.

"What is taking so long!" the best cried, what little patients he had fading with the passing of time.

"You are as impatient as you are ugly." 

The digimon jumped in surprise its long neck twisted around the room, looking over the lanterns, statues, and large wooden door, but its many eyes were unable to locate the source of the voice.

"Who are you? Come out!" the choleric creature hissed.

"Very well…" the voice sounded disappointed, obviously upset that the other digimon was not enjoying its little game. 

Matt was laid on his stomach, one arm rested under his head while the other, with the injured shoulder, was spread out comfortably on the ground. The blonde could hear the brief exchange of words between the mutated dragon and his antagonizing companion, and he grew strangely curious in seeing who the owner of the second voice could be.

Summoning up all of his will Matt forced his tired eyes lids to open, and to his relief his sight was met with a dimly lighted room, rather then a flood of head splitting light.

Shadows danced on the floor before Matt, the patches of darkness were caused by the flickering flames within the many lanterns lining the room's walls. The flames danced as the wind hit them, and the blotches of darkness followed in step, matching the light's movement.

__

Where ever the Light goes, there also will Darkness be. 

The blonde thought to himself as he continued to watch the shadows move, feeling less interested with each passing second, that is until the shadows stopped moving all together. The breeze still played with the tiny flames, yet these shadows no longer followed the light, now they moved on their own path, merging together to form one circle of darkness directly in front of Matt.

He slowly picked himself up and was now sitting, supporting himself with one hand on the ground. The beast completely ignored the boy as all of its eyes watched the collection of shadows with infant curiosity.

Matt lost interest in the shadow when nausea, from sitting up, swept over him, however new intrigue filled him when her heard a light giggle coming from the shadow. His eyes watched as the darkness remained still for a moment and then the shadows became an entity all its own and jumped into the air. The now dark sphere stayed in the air for a moment before transforming into a small digimon.

Matt's eyes widened in surprise as the tiny black digimon landed quietly on the ground.

"Gatomon?" the blonde question in shock as his cerulean eyes ran over the small feline digimon many times.

The pre-teen closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping to clear the delirium from his mind, but when he reopened his eyes he found that his sight had not deceived entirely, there was a cat digimon standing before him, but it was not Gatomon. This feline had jet black fur with deep purple fur on the tips of her ears, royal blue gloves with deep purple stripes, royal blue stripes on her long tail, and a tail-ring of finely polished silver.

The little digimon smirk, almost playfully at Matt, with mischief shinning in her marine blue eyes.

"Please don't insult me." the new comer stated with an over dramatic sigh. "I am BlackGatomon, feline goddess of the shadows." The tiny digimon bowed as she introduced herself, pride entering her voice as she offered her self-appointed tittle.

Matt blankly stared at the champion, showing no amusement from the cat's antics.

BlackGatomon noticed the boy's disinterest and scoffed with irritation and crossed her arms over chest.

"Leave my prisoner alone, pest, and go find Spectermon!" the other digimon shouted.

"I am not your errand cat, Devitamamon." The feline snapped back. "Why don't you take that ugly head of yours and crawl back in your shell." 

BlackGatomon's smooth temper reminded Matt so much of Gatomon when she still worked for Myotismon.

"You little runt! I'm going to rip you apart!" Devitamamon shouted, fury ringing from his snarling voice.

"Is there a problem here?" all parties in the room whipped their heads around at the sound of a new voice.

"Spectermon!" the beast shouted in surprise before he rushed to the female digimon and fell on his knees before her.

BlackGatomon smirked as she watched Devitamamon graveled at Spectermon's feet. The little cat digimon giggled with amusement before she leapt into the air and landed on one of the Meramon statues lining the hall.

"There is no problem here, oh honorable Lady of Darkness." BlackGatomon expressed, humbly answering Spectermon's earlier question.

Devitamamon growled as BlackGatomon offered her chirps reply.

"Spectermon I have brought you the prize that you requested." The mega mutated dragon stated with pride.

Spectermon's attention fell fully on the boy crouched over in the shadows. Everything else in the hall faded and the female digimon smiled seductively as she drifted over to the blonde.

Matt fell back as Spectermon bent down by him, her eyes running over him as though they were measuring his worth.

Matt looked back at the woman entranced by what he saw. The digimon's body was built like an average woman's, she stood about five feet nine inches tall, her body, like most female digimon's, were lined with perfect curves. Her body was also well formed with muscles, still feminine and smooth, but obviously very firm. Her skin was as pale and flawless as porcelain; her fingernails were long like claws and were black, but shinning with health. Her lips were slick and black, as though someone had painted the shadow across her mouth; she had two sharp fangs that sparkled, allowing the world to see her carnivorous heritage. Her long raven hair reach down to her back in soft wavy ribbons, some strains faded into bleach white while the others remained dark. 

The digimon's clothing seemed unusual and somewhat collective, but they fit the normal fashions of the Digital World. She wore two black boots, which reached to her knees, silver buckles latched to the side of each boot, and the front had silver pointed tips that made Matt cringe at the very thought of being kicked by one. A long black skirt reached down to her feet, but the fabric split high on the thighs. A thick black belt with silver bolts rested on her hips and on the left side a whip was attacked to the punk-like belt.

Black gloves cloaked her hands, cutting off at the fingers, but stretching up to her shoulders. A black lace shirt clothed her like a bathing suit top, and a thick silver choker fit around her neck like a collar. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes, slanted and cat-like with a color matching the deepest depths of the ocean, shone with ill intent.

The digimon smiled as though a thought had just crossed her mind, then she stood with the grace of an angel and took two steps back from the seated boy. Her eyes continued to burn into the Chosen Child, making him uneasy with her thoughtful stare. 

Lazily Spectermon snapped her fingers, and from her command more shadows on the walls began to move. Like wild spirits the blotches of darkness swept across the walls until they all reached the company gathered in the hall. Then to Matt's surprise and horror the shadows began to step off the wall and become solid objects. 

For towering figures cloaked in shadow, with no signs of limbs or life stood before Spectermon patiently awaiting her orders. 

Devitamamon hissed, slightly in fear and slightly in curiosity, upon seeing the shadowed digimon.

"Why must you bring _them_ into this!" the mega dragon cried in anguish as his shaky clawed hand pointed at the cloaked digimon.

"Do not tell me, creature, that you are afraid of the forsaken." Spectermon questioned idly as she walked past the beast, her boots tapping softly on the stone ground as she moved, sounding like the perfect rhythm of a clock.

"No… no! Of course not." Devitamamon stuttered in reply.

"Good." Spectermon grinned wickedly, her cold demeanor not faltering despite the glee she was gaining by the mega's show of intimidation. 

"This world is a product of forgotten souls, the land where all lost wandering beings come to receive release from pain and sorrow. The land where those forsaken by their own may find acceptance, much like this poor boy here." the pale digimon spoke softly as her hand gestured towards the confused Matt.

__

But they didn't leave me, I left them. They never forgot me, I forsook them. This digimon is wrong.

"Eidolonmon," Spectermon's voice suddenly went cold, her words flowing from her mouth like rivers of ice, "spirits of darkness, tend to the boy I shall joining you later." 

__

Tend to me? What are they going to do?

Two of the Eidolonmon drift silently to Matt's side. The unusually long arms reach to grasp the boy, but the chill radiating off the creatures bodies' reach him long before their hands touched his flesh, and the cold was like a shot of burning pain reaching all the way down to his bones.

With a yelp Matt fell back, evading the Eidolonmon's reach and then stood. Before another thought could pass through his mind Matt ran. His leg muscles were cramped and weak, but still he force his strength to last as he dashed down the hall, trying to escape this new grip of pain.

The Eidolonmon remained where they were, their faceless heads turned to Spectermon, not wishing to make a move without her consent.

Spectermon waved her hand and the two wraith like digimon flew to their fleeing captive, the shadows moving as quickly as the light.

"Let go!" Matt shouted defiantly as he struggled under the ultimate spirit digimon.

A cry of pain escaped his mouth as one of the phantoms gripped tightly on his wounded shoulder. Mat fell to his knees, pain surged through his body. His blood ran cold he felt as though he had frost bit all over his body.

The Eidolonmon waited until Matt stopped struggling then began to drag him away down the hall.

The remaining company watched as the worn child was carried off by the forsaken wraiths until they at last past out of sight.

"Quite the rebel isn't he. Fighting when there is no hope of victory." Spectermon commented casually.

"Yes even as a mortal he shows strength, imagine the strength he will have once we are through. The perfect prize for the Darkness, the perfect servant for our master." BlackGatomon spoke her sweet mischievous voice holding a darker theme to it then before.

Devitamamon growled in annoyance by the feline's words, then turned to the mega female with demanding eyes. 

"When shall I receive my reward witch! When shall I have what I rightfully deserve!" 

Spectermon's dark blue eyes began to glow until they where eerie silver shinning with malice. 

"I do not award failure wretch." The phantom digimon replied coldly.

Devitamamon snarled, saliva dripping from its sharp yellow teeth. 

"Failure! I did not fail!" the creature screech in anger. "I brought you the prize just as you asked. I want my reward!" as the beast screamed these words he began to hit the walls of the hall, causing the stone to crack and dust to rise from the ruins.

Spectermon watched the show of frustration for a moment, her eyes still glowing, but her face completely emotionless. Then once she grew tiered of the mega's fit she held her hand to silence him.

When Devitamamon would not compiled with her order the phantom nodded at the two remaining Eidolonmon, commanding them to seize the mega.

The two wraiths leapt upon the fitful beast holding him firmly, until he at last stopped struggling.

"You liar, you witch! You traitor, deal breaker!" the mutated dragon screeched as he wiggled under the Eidolonmon's hold, but it was to no avail, he was their prisoner, held tightly to the ground.

"Mortal digimon truly are disgusting creatures." Spectermon commented as she looked at the trapped Devitamamon. "Even the human put up a better battle then you."

"You deceiving witch!" the dragon hissed.

"Do not blame me for your failure, I ordered you to bring me the boy undamaged. The moment you shed his blood you broke our deal." 

Spectermon's eyes began to darken once more until the silver was gone and only deep blue pools remained.

BlackGatomon giggled as she watched the mutated dragon continue to struggle, his face was wrenched in pain, and his many eyes begged for mercy, while clearly showing the fear racing through his heart.

Spectermon turned around and began to retreat back down the hall as BlackGatomon jumped up onto her shoulder, perching herself comfortably at her Mistress' side.

"Spectermon! Please!" Devitamamon's woeful voice rang down the hall. He cried out a few more times until at last silence.

"I told you I should have been the one to handle it." BlackGatomon commented thoughtlessly.

"I did not wish to trouble you with something so trifle. Anyone could have brought the boy here." Spectermon replied, the elegant tone returning to her gentle voice.

"My Lady, do you really feel this will work?" BlackGatomon questioned.

"Yes, there is no doubt."

"We should act quickly then, before Mephistomon can get involved." The little cat digimon commented.

"Yes that is exactly why I brought him here so quickly, but do not worry about the fallen angel, he is a trusting fool." The phantom digimon replied coldly.

"May I ask why you chose this specific boy?" 

Spectermon was silent for a moment, and it seemed as though she would ignore the champion's question entirely, but she eventually answered.

"He intrigues me."

The simple reply was enough for Spectermon's faithful servant, so no more was spoken of it.

"This plan seems to be flawless!" the feline exclaimed with pleasure.

"Dear BlackGatomon, you should know by now that nothing is flawless."

Spectermon stopped as she spoke and BlackGatomon raised a questioning eyebrow.

"There is one thing that could undo all that we have worked for."

"And what is that my Lady?"

"That is for my knowledge alone." Spectermon snapped, but then her voice became even again. "I have something else for you to focus on."

"Oh?" the cat digimon asked with curiosity.

"Yes go into the forest and retrieve the boy's crest. It is a most important factor in our plan." The phantom explained softly.

BlackGatomon smiled with pride that her leader would trust her with such an assignment. "I won't let you down my Lady." The little cat chirped as she jumped from her spot on Spectermon's shoulder.

Spectermon's cold eyes watched as the champion digimon walked into the wall and merged with the shadows dancing upon the stone.

'It won't be long now.'

~*~*~

I hope I didn't loose anyone. I haven't really made any intentions clear on this, but everything will become clear soon enough. If I stick to my plan then I think the next chapter will really throw you off, well maybe not, but it might throw some people off. Review please and tell me what you think, I could especially use your opinions on Spectermon and Eidolonmon.


	4. Frostbitten

A/N: hey everyone it's been a while *** laughs nervously * **really I am so sorry for how long this has taken. I have had more trouble on this fic than anything else I have ever written. Usually my fics kind of write themselves, but this one seems to be shy, and not quite ready to do it all on it's own. Anyway I apologies for the wait and I thank all of you who have reviewed and stuck around.

Hopefully this chapter won't be a let down, it's much longer than the others. Also there will be little constancy on updates and length of chapters on this fic. So I apologies in advance for that.

Here is a little something you should know that I meant to put on my last chapter but forgot.

Spectermon: according to Webster a specter is a "visible incorporeal spirit; one of terrifying nature; ghost; phantom; apparition; or some object or force of terror or dread." I wasn't planing on making up any digimon for this fic, but the only thing close to a female apparition digimon was Harpymon, and she just wasn't wicked enough for me.

Eidolonmon: an eidolon is an unreal image; phantom; or apparition.

And actually Tranye, Eidolomon was inspired * okay you're going to laugh * but it was inspired by the Ghost of Christmas Future in a _Muppet's Christmas Carol_. 

Disclaimer: don't own Digimon, hard as I try.

****

Prisoner of The Night 

Part Four: Frostbitten

Here I stand, Empty Hands

Wishing my Wrist were Bleeding

To stop the Pain from the Beatings

Red Sam, by Passerby

The sounds of silence filled the room. A song of loneliness lulled the child in and out of dreamless sleeps. Imprisoned in the oubliette the boy felt nothing. There was no fear of his phantom captives, and no desire to escape or even move from his place in the center of the circular dungeon. He lay crumpled and defeated; his body cold and cadaverous. 

His hair and skin were no longer caked with dried mud and blood, but were now clean and glimmering in the glow of many torches. His torn and stained clothes had been removed while he slept and replaced by a simple pair of black cotton scrubs. He didn't know what happened, he only shut his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again everything had been wiped clean. His now clean and combed golden hair fell about his spiritless face as his entrancing dark blue eyes stared dully at the circular ceiling above.

__

"Matt I promise we'll spend sometime together during the weekend."

The agitated voice circled his mind, causing the sounds of silence to be forgotten.

__

"You always say that but you never keep to your word. You don't care! Hell you probably don't even know I'm alive!"

He physically winced as the memory of what happened next played out in his mind. The feeling of his father's large hand slapping him across his right check caused tears to gather in his otherwise apathetic eyes. 

__

"I hate you!"

He was on the ground now; the shock of the unsuspected blow had forced him to the ground. His father had never hit him before, and would never hit or punish him again.

"I hate you, I want to go live with mom!" 

The words were cried out spitefully at the shaking man towering above him.

__

"Matt, I'm so sorry,"  


The man apologized while fighting back the tears glistening in his own dark eyes. Slowly, uncertainly, he bent down by his son, trying to comfort him.

__

"Don't touch me."

The nine-year-old hissed out darkly, warning the man away. The man pulled back in pain, knowing that he had destroyed what little faith his son had left for him.

__

"Matt please,"

The man pleaded for his son to just look at him, but his efforts were futile, his son would never look up to his father again.

__

"I want to go live with mom!" 

The boy demanded again from his place on the floor.

"Well you're mother doesn't want you!"

The boy gasped at the harsh reply, feeling the words rip through his heart like dull rusted blades. His mother didn't want him; his father didn't like to be around him, he was a mistake.

The man stood up shaking, immediately self-hatred took over as he realized what he had just yelled. One unchecked moment and his irritation led him to say words sharper than knives. His son would never shine again, his spirit had been ripped from his body, and now he was hallow, an empty shell.

__

"Matt I…"  


He began, not certain of what to say, not knowing how to make it all better. His son still would not look at him and he felt defeated, he had lost him forever; a wall had been built between them.

__

"I have to go to work,"

The man stated sadly, he just didn't know how to make it all better. With no more words exchanged he grabbed his briefcase and walked out the door, while trying to block out the image of his son's corpse.

The boy kept his eyes upon the floor. He remained there until the echo of his front door being shut and locked had died out of the apartment. He then lifted his head and looked hard at the front door, resentment and hurt filling his once sparkling gaze.

Then his shoulders began to tremble and he fell to the ground, allowing the tears to fall freely as he wrapped himself into a ball and cried.

__

"I don't want to be alone…"

Crystal droplets slid slowly down the blonde's pale checks. His vapid eyes continued to stare at the atrabilious air above him as though he saw something that no other sight could touch.

__

I don't want to be alone. They never wanted me, I was a mistake. Before mom got pregnant with me they had the perfect relationship. I've heard the stories, they'd go to work every day, both in love with their careers, and they'd call each other at lunch time or send flowers to one another, stupid stuff like that. Then they'd come home put on some jazz music, mom would cook a romantic diner for two, and they open a bottle of red wine. Sometimes they'd even stay up all night just so they could watch the sunrise together. I've heard all of those stupid mushy stories. They were perfected together, then I can along and everything changed…

The oubliette was a very unusual prison. Unlike the damp dark dungeons you usually see associated with gothic palaces, this dungeon was clean and strangely beautiful. There were no rats to gnaw away at prisoner's flesh, no filthy decay to invade the prisoner's nostrils and stomach with sickness, and no cold bare earth to lay upon. Instead the room was a cylinder with the ceiling standing many stories above the floor like a tower. The walls were smooth and perfectly crafted. They were made of black bricks and you could run your hand completely around the room and never once find a crack or uneven level.

About five feet above the floor was a ring of glass placed into the wall. The ring of glass was two feet high and reached all around the room. Placed behind this round window were many torches. The torches stood within the wall, and their light illuminated the circular room with a dim glow. What was so amazing about these torches and the glass placed within the wall, was the fact that the torches never burn out and the glass never gets dirty. Always clear flames would shine from the window.

What was left of the room was hardly miraculous, there was the ceiling, which was barely noticeable admits the darkness. Then there was the floor. The floor was made up of many one square inch tiles, which made up a pattern of black wings with an unusual symbol in the center of them. Matt didn't recognize the symbol, it didn't appear to be a crest, and it was more like a marking. The bottom of the symbol mad a point while the top branched out in two different directions, making the shape of angel wings. 

__

Demon wings on the outside and angel wings within. Does that mean that within every evil there is some good, or does it mean that all light will be conquered and swallowed by darkness? Not that it matters either way, why should I care about good or evil.

"Because TK is good and he is fighting evil."

He doesn't need me.

"But you need him."

I needed him to live. I don't need him to die. I want to die alone; I want him to be free of me.

"He can never be free of you, nor can you be free of him, he's your brother. And the others, they are your friends."

NO! I don't have any friends; they're all better off without me. I'm not going to make them suffer any longer. They're all better off without me, TK's better off without me, I'm a mistake.

A shiver ran up the blonde's spin as he realized for the first time how cold he was, lying bareback upon the tile floor. He still didn't understand why they had taken his clothes, nor could he figure out why they had yet to kill him, but he was certain his death would come soon.

__

Why would the darkness want me? My own parents didn't even want me. The world would be better off if I would just disappear; I would be better off if I just died. There's no room in a world of perfection for a mistake.

~*~*~

A dismal fog, impenetrable by the necked or common eye, hung low in the air. It blanketed the moist muddy forest floor in an obstruction of uncertainty. Reaching out of the suffocating mist were grotesque, aged trees, with twisted and rotten branches and crisp ash colored leaves. The bare, or nearly bare, branches of the timber resembled bony starved hands, reaching desperately out of their prison beneath the shielding fog. Begging for the feeling of the sun's warm rays upon their limbs, and craving a breathe of pure air, not polluted like the poisonous mist which slowly decayed their form and killed their foliage.

The ground below was soft and easily sunken into. The high moisture levels in the air sank each nigh into the ground, leaving the soil as tainted as the mist and causing the poor dying trees to sink into an early grave of toxic mud. No wind, no matter how great, could find its way into the forest that day, and so there was nothing to relieve the captive trees from their suffering. The ground below hungered for the taste of living timber breathing last breaths in its locked jaw. The sunless sky continued ceiling in all inhabitants of the dreary world in an atmosphere of darkness. And the mist clung to every living and none living object in the forest, trying to poison them as it was poisoned. This truly was a world of nightmares, and a prison to all that fall under darkness' spell.

As most of the trees sang a silent song of their death, which was to come, one tree suddenly sprang to life. Branches shook for a moment and the few crisp leaves, which still clung to their limbs, rattled together as their branches were disturbed. First it was a branch high up in the crown of the tree, then the branch below, and then another, until the disturber had descended from the clean air above into the fog below. One of the lowest branches in the old tree vibrated for a moment, sending a few black and gray leaves to the forest floor, then went still and no other branches shook with activity.

Upon the branch no being could be seen for the body of the disturber was as dark as a moonless night. The creature flopped down almost irritably upon its final branch, and then an agitated sigh shattered the silence of the dead wood, as a small breathe pushed some of the fog away from a dainty feline face. Whiskers twitched as though they were attempting to bat away the meddlesome fog, and a long tail swayed back and forth in a mesmerizing dance.

"I am growing tried of this!" the feline grunted, despite the fact that no one could hear her.

'I've been searching for that stupid little trinket for nearly three days now, and still I have found no sight of it. I know it's crucial in our plans, and I am honored that Spectermon trusted me with such a task, but this is getting ridiculous!' the black cat-like creature both complained and mused in her mind, no longer finding it necessary to voice her thoughts to the empty forest.

Deciding that sitting around and complaining was not going to bring her further to her goal, the cat stood back up, lazily stretched out her front legs, then scanned over the area around her.

Large mischievous feline eyes began to glow, changing from a bright marine blue to an icy steal blue. The glowing orbs looked like polished blue metal, and they pierced the fog like lighting blots. The mist twisted and fought defiantly at the creature and her spell, but in the end the elements were of no match to the superior abilities of the champion digimon, and the mist thinned out quickly in defeat.

The black champion sneered half pleased with her own show of power, and half-disgusted with the sight the faded mist revealed. The glowing steal blue eyes quickly brightened back into a gleeful bright blue, and then the sparkling orbs narrowed upon the forest floor in a threatening stare. The digimon was horrified by what she saw upon the forest floor. Decrepit rotten timber crawling with ravenous maggots and termites. Sticky sickening mud that clung to everything it touched, and lastly forsaken bones, of various digimon who had been foolish enough to wander into the life thirsty woods. 

BlackGatomon's noise twisted in repulse. "If I get so much as one speck of dust on my beautiful fur coat, then I am going to be greatly angered." She spat at the elements around her, daring them to even attempt to attack her with their filth.

Finally deciding that the forest knew its place, the cat swiftly leapt from her place on the lower branch of one tree and landed on a higher branch on the tree across from it.

For another half-hour the minion continued her search, jumping from tree to tree, and clearing the fog wherever she went. She tried to keep her spirit up by humming a tone and thinking about all of the beautiful destruction that was to come, but after a while her agitation returned, as she found her labors producing no fruit. 

'I must find this crest, I'm running out of time.' Feeling a new sense of urgency, BlackGatomon went where DeviTamamon was foolish enough to brake his deal with Spectermon and injured their prey.

She stood upon a thick tree branch which loomed over the cite and looked down desperately.

'I have already been over this area today, but maybe there's something I missed.' 

Nothing had changed since her first visit to the clearing, and no sign of the crest could be seen.

The feline crawled cautiously further down the limb, her eyes were narrowed upon the spot where blood was shed, and darkness glistened in her eyes as she smiled revealing her thin but remarkable sharp teeth.

'There was a power here, though dim as it was, I can definitely sense some association with the boy. But how could I have missed this earlier?' 

Her ears twitched thoughtfully as the champion tried to unravel the mystery behind the crest and its current location.

'Some one must have put a spell on the area so that no one could feel the lingering presence of the boy's power. Who ever did this is very bold and will pay dearly for delaying my mission.'

She closed her eyes, shutting her sight off of the visible world, and opening another door within her senses. Her paws pulled into determined fist as she fought against the powers of both the forest and the spell placed upon the area. 

She was running through a maze with walls as high as heaven and all made of mirror. At first the mirrors only reflected her own image, but as she journeyed through the maze, treading lightly upon the glass floor, and remaining aware of every turn she made, the reflection slowly began to change. The scenes within the mirror shifted, and she slowly traced her way back. At first it was her sitting in the tree staring at the clearing, then she was gone and the forest floor was blanketed in fog, showing that she had yet to arrive and chase the mist out. Hours flew by like seconds, and she watched closely as nothing changed. The mist occasionally thinned out and then would thicken again, but other than that it seemed that the clearing received no visitors besides the black cat.

More images flashed by as time went in reverse. Now it was nighttime, and the darkness brought by night made the caligounous of day seem as bright and warm as a clear summer's eve. The hours past and never did the moon grace the black velvet sky with its silver light. 

The feline watched as last midnight appeared before her, all was still, but as the images continued to change and the night went into ten o'clock something happened. There was suddenly as shadow in the distance. Time passed, and the shadow approached the clearing, until at last the champion could make out the silhouette's identity. It was a Karatemon, the champion digimon slowly got closer and BlackGatomon growled in anger as the scene played in reverse. Karatemon was the one who placed the spell upon the area, and in his hand he clutched the Crest of Friendship, a trinket that should be in the hands of her mistress, Spectermon, not some worthless underling.

BlackGatomon's anger grew as she watched Kartemon's actions in reverse, right up until the time of his arrival. Finally her rage had reached it's full, and the mirrors around her began to crack then shatter from the energy flowing from the evil cat digimon. The glass shattered and crashed around her, and the sounds disrupted her concentration, sending her back to her reality and the dreary forest.

BlackGatomon blinked a few times, clearing her mind of the image she had just seen. Once she felt herself composed she looked around the clearing again. Already the fog had crept back into its place above the ground, and without the feline's spell to keep it away, it would remain, a poison to the forest until no woods remained.

'So a Karatemon took the crest, how very… intriguing. Who would possibly have the audacity to undermine Mephistomon and Spectermon? Who ever it is must be very courageous, or simply foolish. No matter, I will track down this annoyance with raven wings and make him pay for causing me such grief.'

The feline jumped from tree to tree, moving through the life-thirsty forest in search of a life that she might devour.

~*~*~

__

What can be said about a broken home? You can say it's a shame, a pity, and a grief. You can give it so many sad titles, like painful, tragic, shocking, but you can never call it a mistake. Divorce is never a mistake. Marriage now that's the mistake, that's where the problems begin. So many happy couples are killed, ruined, and spoiled by the simple words "I do".

Matt rolled on his side and curled up into a ball. He tried to look small, maybe even invisible, but he was certain that whatever archfiend had brought him there would not forget about him, no matter how small he tried to become. Trepid and chilled deep into the bones, the blonde tried not to focus on how lost and confused he felt. No one explained to him why he was here and what they planed to do with him, he was left alone in a pit of wintry air. He rarely felt this cold, or this overtaken by bedevilment. 

__

What could they want with me?

The questioned circled his mind like ominous storm clouds above. Some how he knew the rain would soon fall and the lighting would soon crash. It was only a matter of time before the threatening clouds above released their elements upon him, and the thought frightened him. He tried to avoid thinking about what could be coming next, but the thoughts, which took the questions' places, were neither comforting nor welcoming.

__

Divorce is never where couples go wrong, it's matrimony that shatters their relationship and feelings. I remember after the divorce was final and everything had settled down, my father would tell his friends he's so much happier now. He was so better off now that the "crazy woman" was out of his life. He'd tell them that all his cares and worries had evaporated, much like his love for my mother.

Dad loved mom; he was only trying to fool himself when he said he was better off without her. He loved her, needed her… they need each other, but he just wouldn't except that.

The boy shut his eyes tightly, believing that maybe his mind would cease its pondering if only he blocked out the nourishing light coming from the torches. But it didn't work. His anger and disappointment for his father only grew until it reflected upon his mother.

__

Mom wasn't any better. The few times I was invited over there, all she'd do is ask me how my father was doing, and what he was doing. She'd ask how his life was deteriorating. She'd exclaim how pathetic he must be without her around, and then she'd talk about all of her many accomplishments. She'd declare that the world was now her oyster, and everything was fine, better than fine, everything was perfect.

I guess life is perfect when you don't have me around…

A rigid cough forced its way out of the young boy's throat. Every time he breathed, a cloud of icy air tore down his throat and expanded in his lungs. The slits of icy rubbed like sand upon his throat, making it raw and worn.

__

But everything they'd say, every time they'd boast about their new, wonderful life; I knew it was all a lie. Just an illusion, much like their love. The problems didn't go away just because they no longer had to face them together, and neither was happier. They both still struggled with finances, the stress to stay out of debt, and to constantly have more than the other was a lot heavier than the stress of marriage. 

They both fell apart; they're both still falling apart.

His eyelids fluttered for a moment before the blonde finally opened his eyes. For a while the blue orbs stared lifelessly at the wall across from him. For a moment peace swept over him as he felt all thoughts leave his mind, and the whole of him, right down to his soul, went numb. The feeling was amazing and the troubled boy was grateful for the brake from misery, but unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and he soon found himself drifting back into a sea of painful questions and haunting fears.

I wonder what they think when they think of me. TK was a trophy child, completely content to stand at my mother's side and be the perfect little angel that every mother dreamed of. I'm glad that he can do it too, my brother deserves to be loved and noticed, unlike me, he's worthy of love. I never did anything to deserve love. I was the withdrawn one, no body likes an aloof little kid, it makes them seem… hateful. But I never really hated anyone; I just didn't know how to handle myself in a manner that would draw attention. So I was deemed depressed and resentful… who would have ever thought that I'd actually grow into those titles? It's amazing how someone can tell you something so many times that eventually even you believe it.

But none of that matters, a mistake can only strive to be what everyone else wants them to be, what else do they have but impossible expectation to meet.

He curled up even more, his face buried by his arms, and soon his breathing began to even out.

__

I think that's why I never asked my parents for anything. I never demanded their attention because I knew I could never deserve it. Well I did ask one time, and that was the only time…

The memories threatened to resurface, but before they could arise, bringing torment with them, the young boy drifted off. At last he found rest deep in the dark corners of his mind. There he hid, and there he slept in peace.

~*~*~

"Here birdy… birdy… birdy… Here birdy… birdy… birdy… come out, come out wherever your are…" a tantalizing voice chimed seductively.

BlackGatomon had been following the scent of the Karatemon for over an hour, and her hunt had led her out of the dying forest and high onto the Diablery Cliffs. The Diablery Cliffs were walls of razor sharp stone, which stood high above the dark ocean. 

The feline digimon crawled slowly unto a dirt mound and then leapt to a large stone elevation. Her blue eyes sparkled with pride as she watched the obscure waves of the black water beat heavily upon the cliffs. The waves would wash up, drenching the black rocks then pull back, revealing a multitude of sharp rocks sticking dangerously out of the water. With each tide the rocks below grew sharper and more deadly as the brine sanded them down like the point on a spear.

The champion digimon smiled wickedly as she thought about how entertaining it would be to see another creature fall onto the rocks below, then shook her head clearing her mind of the pleasurable daydream, and returned her focus to her mission. She hadn't journeyed such a great distance just to see the glorious sights in her world, she had a job to complete. 

'I have to find the unfortunate Karatemon who dared to anger me.' 

Reminding herself of her task, she continued to walk the cliffs, knowing that her prey was still near. The only thing she could assume was that the Karatemon was already very tiered from his search to find the crest, and was in no condition to travel across the ocean to whatever continent his master waited at.

"Here little birdy…" the black cat called sweetly as she crawled over the cliffs, remaining alert and cautious as she moved.

Her whiskers twitched a bit as she sniffed the air, then her eyes slanted and narrowed as she caught the scent of her prey. 

'He's resting near by, what a fool, he should have known that some one would come after the crest.'

The champion continued to move forward, her black coat caused her to merge with the shadows perfectly. The caliginous sky and ebony rock concealed the huntress and with each step her body began to thin out. Soon all color faded from her form, and her paws and tail became as black as night. As her body thinned and her color darkened, the cat quickened her pace. Soon she was moving so quickly that her feet never seemed to actually touch the ground. She was like a wild spirit, moving as though the limitation of the natural world had no effect upon her. She was like the shadows themselves, no form, and simply darkness.

However, unlike the rest of her body, her eyes remained visible. The marine blue orbs slowly began to change in color and design, until they were a cold steel blue. It looked like a great darkness had captured the moon and swallowed it whole, and now the bluish-silver light was seeking freedom. The light pored out of the cat's eyes in a dangerous glow of power.

'The little birdy is near.'

Further down the cliffs, resting openly upon the black stone floor was the Karatemon, which the cat-like creature sought. The winged warrior was stretched out and resting up for the difficult flight a head of him. His thoughts and attention had long since drifted from his surroundings to the anticipation of receiving a grand award from his master for the great deed he had accomplished. 

His eyes were closed while he daydreamed, and his breathing was even as he felt he had nothing to worry about. His spell upon the crest's original location was flawless and no creature could ever break it. By the time someone realized who had taken the crest he would already be across the ocean and in the safety of his master's company.

The wizard digimon smiled, gloating over his accomplishments, but unbeknownst to the comfortable virus, a predator was slowly approaching him. The black creature stalked the confidant Karatemon in the darkness, and the wizard simply rested, oblivious to his huntress.

BlackGatomon circled the Karatemon several times. To this excellent huntress the simple champion was a fool. Anyone carrying such a valuable device such as the Crest of Friendship, should execute more caution, but the Karatemon was overconfident, and truly felt that he had already won the battle.

The feline digimon ran a light pink tongue over her lips as she devised a plan to remove the crest from the wizard's possession.

'This shouldn't be too difficult.' She thought lazily to herself as she slowly moved in on the champion.

The cat still cloaked in shadow, was now but a step away from her target. Already she could feel the power of the crest, its ability to invoke evolution called to her, and she almost shuddered from the intensity of the power. Her paw slowly stretched out as she prepared to reach into the champion's brown pouch, where she knew the crest was kept. She was an inch away; her prize was within her grasp, when suddenly something stopped her. Her claws touched a barrier and instantly dark blue waves of energy flowed around the Karatemon like lighting.

BlackGatomon cursed silently at her own stupidity, then jumped back spiting spitefully at the barrier and the burn it left upon her paw. 

Her concentration was lost and her body soon returned to normal. The shadows lifted from her, and there she stood exposed, cradling her injured paw, with steel blue eyes that clearly read "death".

The Karatemon began to stir the moment the barrier spell was disturbed; he then slowly stood up as though the attempted attack upon him was as irrelevant as an annoying fly buzzing around him.

Once the Karatemon was on his feet he turned to his attacker, his yellow eyes glaring coldly at the feline while an amused smile played upon his lips.

"I don't know what you were thinking, _kitten_, but attempting to rob me was a mistake." He stated smoothly, obviously not considering the feline to be much of a threat.

BlackGatomon dropped her paw then turned an icy stare upon the winged wizard. "Oh I intend to do much more than rob you, I intend to slaughter you for taking what is rightfully Spectermon's." she declared sweetly at first, but then her voice went cold and dark.

Karatemon stared blankly at his opponent for a moment then slowly began to chuckle.

The virus cat was more than agitated, now she was offended, a feeling which only made her more deadly.

"I don't have time for you kitten, why don't you go chase a Chuumon or something." The wizard mocked as he stretched his large raven wings, signaling that he was about to take off. He then turned around and began to casually walk towards the edge of the cliff.

Once he reached the edge of the cliff he bent his legs until he stood low and stretched out his wings. After he was in position, he prepared to jump off of the cliff, wanting the wind to lift him over the black brine below.

However, just as the wizard jumped he felt something wrap around his wrist and yank him back upon the cliff.

Once the champion crash back onto the black stone he looked at his wrist, his yellow eyes widening in surprise, then he jerked his head back to where BlackGatomon stood.

"You're not a wizard type!" the warrior exclaimed in surprise as his eyes went back to the device holding him to the cliff.

There wrapped around his thin wrist was a black buckle, which was connected to a black chain. The chain ran right into the ground as though it had sprouted out of the earth itself.

"Stick around, and you'll find that I'm full of surprises." The black cat peered out arrogantly.

Annoyance instantly entered the Karatemon's yellow eyes, and he bellowed angrily at this interference. With a threatening grunt he pulled the chain hard braking the spell and causing the black loops to scatter upon the ground, before they faded into a black mist and rose to the air like harmless clouds.

"You're going to wish you stayed home by your saucer of milk before I'm done with you!" the winged digimon hissed out as he drew his two yellow swords.

BlackGatomon smirked pleased with her opponent's response to her spell, but did not move an inch. She sat on all four of her legs with her head hung down so that a shadow masked her face.

The feline's lack of concern for Karatemon and his threats only angered the wizard more, and rage began to boil in his glowing eyes as his body shook with frustration.

"Fine! If you will not fight me then I'll destroy you!" he screamed with fury, as he took to the air and flew towards the cat, traveling quicker than the speed of sound.

The warrior was almost upon his opponent, but just as he reached her, his attack was foiled as she jumped into the air, missing the blade of his swords by barely a centimeter. The cat moved with even greater speed than her opponent did, she moved as quickly as darkness itself, and in the air she managed to maneuver four front flips before coming down hard on her opponent's head.

The Karatemon screeched in surprise and pain as his beak and face was thrown violently into the stone ground.

BlackGatomon used the leverage from the wizard's head to push herself back into the air, where she put on another graceful show of flips and twist and landed without so much as a sound some six feet away from her enemy.

The Karatemon groaned in pain as he pushed himself up from his cribbed position on the black rocks. Already he could taste copper swooshing in his mouth and slipping down his throat. The blood dripped from his face and slipped out of his mouth, trailing its way down the champion's purple armor. Small puddles of crimson collected upon the rocky ground, and raven feathers, sprinkled in freshly spilt blood, floated upon the breeze past the two fighters and over the dark ocean.

The Karatemon was now back upon his feet, however, the damage from the fall was strongly evident upon the creature's face. His beak had split all the way up to his face and in two different places on the left side. Blood was oozing out of the three slits and poring upon the ground like an endless stream of tears.

BlackGatomon was now smiling, silently mocking her battered opponent, as she stood in a battle ready stance. "Come and get me little birdy." She enticed smoothly.

Karatemon's eyes were still unfocused, as he had not fully recovered from the blow to his skull, however, his anger had reached its limits, and he was now trembling horribly with rage. "You will pay!" he screamed so loudly that the call of animosity rang out over the sea and the air.

The feline digimon only smiled, to her this was more fun than torturing toddlers.

Karatemon gripped his two swords tightly, remarkably he had not dropped them during his fall, and now they were wedged into his palms with crimson sprinkled upon the handles.

The wizard charged the black cat, this time remaining on the ground. He brought his swords up and ran at full speed, leaving ribbons of red flowing behind him, before they crashed to the ground splattering into many tiny droplets.

BlackGatomon kept her eyes locked upon her opponent. She remained incredibly still, as the larger digimon closed in on her, brining up his swords as he moved. Then just as the Karatemon was about to bring his weapons down upon her large cat ears, she flipped back upon her front paws, performing a back flip and using her tail like a whip. Her long stripped tail flew behind her, following her body and sliced through the Karatemon's thick purple armor. 

Instantly the wizard fell to one knee and dropped his swords as his shaking hands were placed upon the fresh wound running from his stomach up to his neck. The cut barely drew blood, but his flesh was still soar, and his mind was shocked from the cleverly executed attack.

BlackGatomon was now back upon both of her feet and watching her injured opponent with a triumphant grin upon her features.

"Are you ready to hand over what is rightfully mine?" she questioned smoothly, though her tone held the edge of a threat.

The Karatemon's body was shaking now, his shoulders trembled uncontrollably, and his breathing was quick, desperate pants.

"Never!" the champion hissed strongly as he shot his head up and struggled to his feet once more. "This crest belongs to my master." 

The wizard's stuttered words caught the feline's attention, and she suddenly grew very curious as to whom the Karatemon's master was.

"Tell me, noble warrior, who is this great Lord, whose will you are so eager to die for." The cat peered in the most respectful tone she could muster.

The wizard sneered distastefully at the black cat's attempt to charm him, then replied. "Don't concern yourself with a name, you'll find out when he comes to kill you and all of your kind." The champion boasted coldly.

A look of insult and rage clouded over the cat digimon's face as she fully abandoned the idea of obtaining information from her adversary, and reverted her attention back to destroying him.

Without wasting anymore time with words, the champion cat charged her barely standing opponent.

The Karatemon's eyes widened in fear as he saw the black mass approaching him at incomprehensible speed. He tried to get his battered wings to hoist him into the air, but the bruised and bloodied limbs could barely flap without sending pain through his entire body. By the time the idea to run entered the wizard's mind it was too late, BlackGatomon had reached him, and with a startling battle cry the cat slammed two claws on her right paw into the warrior's yellow eyes.

Karatemon hissed and screeched in horror and pain as everything faded from his sight and he went blind.

BlackGatomon twisted her claws within her opponents eye's sockets, enjoying the howls of agony she was receiving in response to her action. But soon the fun was over, and she reminded herself that she had a job to complete. Reluctantly she yanked her claws away from the Karatemon's face, only to have her opponent's left eyeball remained locked around her claw. 

Ignoring her _disgusting_ predicament for a moment, she used her free paw to retrieve the Crest of Friendship from the Karatemon's brown pouch. She then jumped unto the ground and looked at her slime and blood covered paw in revolt.

Tightening her grip around her newly obtained prize, she set to the task of freeing her paw from the mess collected upon it. She shook her paw, frowning as she realized how truly difficult removing the filth would be.

As the black cat focused on the fact that she needed a bath, she failed to realize that her opponent was still tumbling around screaming that he could not see. The Karatemon tripped over rocks, slicing up his bird-like talons, and his hand covered his bleeding eyes. He cried and screamed and begged for mercy, but all of his calls fell upon deaf ears, as his opponent had lost interest in him, the moment she got what she was after.

Blindly he roamed around; blood spilling from his eye sockets onto the ground like water spills onto the land after a dam had been broken. He stumbled around getting dangerously close to the cliffs, but still his opponent paid not attention to him.

BlackGatomon was cursing irritably at the film and eyeball still stuck upon her paw. Finally an idea hit her, and she decided to use the rocks below to scrap the majority of the mess off of her paw. Once free of the filth, a triumphant smile plastered upon her face and she mused upon how talented she was. But soon her triumphant smile was replace by a look of curiosity as she suddenly realized that she could no longer hear the terror filled screams of her opponent.

Turning around to where his voice had last come from, she scanned over the area but no trace of the wizard could be found. The black cat looked all around, but still the Karatemon was no where in sight. After a few moments of looking the feline got bored, and so she shrugged her shoulders as if to say _whatever_, then put her newly gained trinket around her neck and headed off to the Mephistomon's fortress in the Black Mountains and her awaiting mistress.

Below the dark waves still washed up and crashed upon the black cliffs. The brine rose, concealing the razor sharp rocks, which stuck proudly out of the ocean, then, the tide pulled back, diluting traces of crimson as it pulled away from the rocks. And there speared with the great stones was Karatemon, his blood veined into the water until the brine overpowered it, and his hallow eyes stared at the sky warning all away.

~*~*~

Tattered banners of deep reds and purples hung lifelessly from splintered rafters. Their bold and exquisite colors had long since dulled with time, as dust collected upon them, clothing them in a grayish age. Four thick stone walls with cracks and mildew made up the side barriers to the large throne room, while a moist and slowly rotting, wooden ceiling and a dust covered stone floor, made up the top and bottom obstructions. 

No windows were placed inside the room so no light from the outside could fumble its way in, illuminating the dreary room with warmth and cheer. Instead the room was lighten by ten great flame stands, which lined the blood red carpet, five on each side. Only one exit for the room existed, and this came in the form of two great wooden doors, placed upon rusted iron hinges. The great amounts of moisture in the air causing everything to age and die quicker than it should.

The room held a dour demeanor, settled in gloominess and despair, an environment which fully suited its melancholy master. 

"I do not see how you can be so certain Spectermon." The master of the saturnine throne room bellowed out pitifully.

The one receiving the gloomy master's testimony of doubt gritted her teeth in irritation, but remained composed in front of her Lord. 

"My Lord, I have told you there really is not certainty when it comes to matters such as these. Humans are such a lowly race, it is impossible to identify the exceptional when they are still amongst the worthless." Spectermon chose her words carefully, not wanting anything to hinder her plan. "If you will but let me commence with the ceremony I can prove to you that this is the correct child, and you will have earned great favor with the powers of Darkness."

Mephistomon shifted in his large onyx throne before leaning back in thought. For a while his mirthless face remained absent of emotion, and his eyes, which constantly looked on the brink of tears, clouded over with contemplation.

After some time of silent pondering, the fallen angel leaned forward to state his further concerns. "And what if you are wrong Spectermon, what if this boy is not the key we have search for?" after the question was asked the ultimate digimon leaned back in his large seat, feeling that there was no way his servant could possibly answer this question.

Spectermon could see the trap her Lord had set. She could not put into words how greatly she despised the dejected fallen angel, to her all of his kind were as worthless as dirt, but she had been assigned to work for him, and so she could not state her obvious distaste. 

Taking a bold step forward, the phantom maiden pushed a few strands of her black as night hair behind her pale pointed ears and replied, "Then we will all die my Lord."

Mephistomon gulped down quickly, finding his servant's response nerve raking. He leaned back in his seat, trying to maintain some of his dignity, then questioned back, "And this does not trouble you?" he tried to make it seem as though he were bored and uninterested in the lady wraith's words, but his attempt was failing miserably.

Spectermon smiled cruelly, knowing that she now had the upper hand in this conversation. "Of course not, my Lord," she expressed sweetly, though both knew that she was mocking the fallen angel, "Only the weak fear death."

The phantom's words came out cold and with such conviction that Mephistomon knew that his servant truly believed what she said. Feeling as though he were on trial and before the most prejudice of juries, the fallen angel shifted uncomfortably in his black throne. His better judgment told him to be weary, and not to rush into such a dangerous endeavor, such as the ceremony his servant spoke of, but his ego had been scratched, and his honor and courage questioned by an underling. 

"It is not death I fear, revenant!" the ultimate digimon announced with as much dignity as he could salvage, "It is the wrath of darkness, would you risk angering our Master with your hasty decisions?" the woeful digimon questioned, hoping to once again gain control of the argument.

Spectermon's eyes narrowed upon her Lord, she despised the title he referred to her as, and she knew that the arrogant digimon had no respect for her kind. Many digimon traveled to the Dark Ocean from other worlds in hopes of power, and this mortal digimon quickly overtook the free spirited phantoms of the world, forcing them to serve flesh and blood.

"Forgive me my Lord, you are right, I do not wish to anger our Master, however, if I am correct, than not only will the darkness be pleased but there will be nothing to stop it. No natural laws, no boundaries, the darkness will hold the keys to all worlds, and will spread over every realm like a plague. And we will be rewarded for our loyalties and deeds. You, my Lord, will have more power than you could ever imagine."

Mephistomon leaned back in his large throne, finding it impossible to resist the temptation of power. "You are certain that this is the correct child?" he asked lazily, as daydreams of carnage and oblivion circled his usually dull mind.

"None of the others could have possibly survived this long in a world of pure misery and despair. His life would serve our cause perfectly." The female wraith explained confidently, knowing that the argument was settled, and that she would soon have what she desired.

Mephistomon looked down at the neglected stone floor for a moment, a ray of doubt still lingered in his eyes, but the promise of power was too great to deny, and so he reluctantly consented. "Do as you will, wraith." The fallen angel at last announced, before waving a dismissing hand towards the two large wooden doors of the throne room.

Spectermon smiled, pleased with the outcome of the argument, then bowed before turning around and leaving the fallen angel with a deadly smirk upon her face.

~*~*~

Spectermon walked slowly through the corridors of the drearisome castle. Her steps were large and even, while her gloved hands were locked behind her back. She carried herself high, showing as much decorum as was demanded of a digimon of her statue. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with pride, and her black lips tugged into a small smile. She had accomplished her goal, which was to deceive her verminous Lord.

"I take it your little talk with the wretch went well." A ghastly voice observed from the shadows.

Spectermon stopped her leisurely walk, but kept her poise and remained focused on the hallway before her, despite the fact that the creature addressing her was standing to her right side. 

A cruel smile now played on the phantom's lips as she replied to the being hidden in the shadows. "Fools are easy to play." She explained almost lazily.

"Indeed." The reply came back in a tone of praise to the wraith's capabilities. 

Spectermon's smile then dropped, and she continued her walk still showing little interest in her companion, who was now walking alongside her still hidden in the shadows.

"Any word from BlackGatomon?" the pale skinned digimon questioned with an edge to her voice that clearly stated the answer had better be yes.

The creature beside the phantom grunted slightly before replying, "She has just returned, and has brought the crest with her."

At this Spectermon abruptly stopped her walk, then jerked her head so that she could look at her companion. "Excellent," she stated wickedly, her usually smooth voice taking on a tone of viciousness. Her black lips twisted into a smile, like a starving wolf would give a cornered prey, and then she raised her right hand and quickly snapped her fingers. 

At her command two shadows pealed themselves off of the walls and molded into the form of bodiless cloaks. 

The being hidden in the shadows smiled devilishly at the sight of the two Eidolonmom. The soulless creatures brought with them the icy feeling of death. A feeling that the being within the shadows both loved and craved.

Spectermon turned to her loyal servants, her eyes showing no concern, or pity for the eternally lost. "Prepare the boy, it is time to go to Tophet."

At their mistress' command the Eidolimon nodded, the hood of their shadowed cloaks then sunk into the stone floor, vanishing as though they were never really there.

Once the wraiths were gone, the creature within the shadows spoke again. "In a hurry are we?" he questioned finding the speed in the Lady's decisions uncommon.

Spectermon turned to her companion; no sings of tolerance were shown in her ominous eyes. "I will not waste anymore time, nor will I risk any further interference. This most be done tonight." She explained coldly.

The phantom's companion nodded understandingly, then waited knowing his orders would soon be given.

"Find BlackGatomon, and the two of you meet me in the courtyard, the Eidolimon will have the boy at Tophet quickly, we will leave as soon as possible."

Spectermon's servant nodded his head, then lifted it for the first time since he joined the phantom. His blood red eyes glowed eerily in the shadows, and his coal teeth looked grotesque as his skinless face formed as much of a smile as it could. 

"As you wish my Lady." SkullSatamon replied devotionally to his mistress, before he too sunk into the floor, disappearing from the lady phantom's sight.

Once alone Spectermon turned back in the direction she was walking, a small smile pulled on her lips and her sharp fangs glistened in the torchlight.

'Soon boy you will know what it is to truly suffer.'

She took up her steps once more, holding herself high, as all great ladies should, then walked away.

~*~*~

In the Dark Ocean there are many marvels to behold. Great castles built by oppressed slaves who were driven by cruel Master's. Empires conceived of deceit, animosity, and terror were scattered upon the many small continents that rose above the obscure ocean. The omnipotent Darkness bore this world of shadow and despair, and each leader placed upon an honored throne were selected and blessed by the eternal rival of light. If the appointed leader should somehow prove unfit for their honored position, then they were to be removed and condemned by the very force they once served without question.

The darkness cares nothing for its underlings, all servants are expendable, and so failure was look upon as betrayal, and betrayal was punished with an eternity of suffering. For ages the powers of Darkness has sought for its edge over the light, for something that would tip the balance in umbra's favor, but these endeavors have proven fruitless, and many worthless servants have lost their lives because of their incapability. But now it seemed that one daring servant had found the key to all chains binding the darkness. No longer would evil be confined to lands were a vast amount of its servants dwelt; at last it would be free to spread throughout all worlds, swallowing the light whole. 

But first evil must have an outlet; a key that could open the doors once closed to it. The servants of darkness would finally receive the great rewards promised to them for many generations, and all of this would be achieved by one lost little boy. A boy unaware of how significant he truly was.

__

What is this place? And why am I here? Who are these digimon whose touch are as icy as death, and whose eyes are as unearthly as my parent's when they would shout and argue. Why is the sleet so cold upon my face and so sharp upon my skin? Shouldn't I have gone numb by now?

The questions circled Matt's mind as he stumbled uneasily through the darkness, trying to keep in step with the gristly creatures dragging him carelessly uphill. He wasn't certain of where they were taking him, he wasn't even certain of how he had gotten this far.

Being in the dudgeon seemed ages ago yet he could recall every detail.

Lying lifelessly in the oubliette and staring dully at the darkness above, he dared not move, for each time he did pain would instantly jolt through his limbs and spread unto his entire body. The cold had seeped into his flesh, mingled with his blood, and worked its way deep into his bones, causing his joints to ache and his lungs and throat to burn. 

He still wondered why his clothes had been replaced with the simple pare of thin clothed pants, and he desperately craved his gloves as his fingers had gone numb yet still throbbed with pain. The thought of a warm fire wrapping its heat around him and thawing his frozen body taunted him with hope, hope that he would once again feel something other than pain. But all hope shattered as time past and he lied for hours alone on the cold floor. He would never know warmth again, he would never know hope again.

__

What is this place? Why won't they answer any of my questions? Why won't I ask any questions? Why am I suddenly afraid?

The Eidolonmon continued to drag the nearly bare boy through the shadows of the world. Their formless hands gripped tightly upon the fear filled child, showing no compassion for the now trembling blonde.

Matt tried to fill his mind with other thoughts, thoughts less troubling than the ones currently racing through his head. But he soon found it impossible to seek distraction with some gentle memory or beautiful thought, so he changed his focus, deciding he'd retrace the steps which led him to this place.

He had been lying in the oubliette, nothing had changed, the torch light danced above his head, and a quick thought that maybe the glass portion of the circular wall would be warm from the flickering flames crossed his mind. However he abandoned this notion as he reminded himself how painful it was to move, even the promise of warming his now blue hands was not appealing enough to make him rise, and so he lied and waited.

The minutes past like days, and his pain and anguish overwhelmed him, weighing down upon him like all the burdens he has carried. As he lied there slipping slowly into a corpse state, he began to wonder if he would ever see true light again, he wondered if he'd ever escape this "Hall of Sleet".

Soon his worries faded, as a jerk from below brought some life back to the pale child. With little interest the blonde pushed himself slowly up on his elbows and idly looked around. Everything had gone still again, and he was about to lie back down when the floor jerked again. This time the movement was unmistakable, and the boy's dull blue eyes diverted to the tiled floor curiously.

As soon as the blue orbs rested their gaze upon the title pattern another movement overcame the floor, and the blonde found himself startled as the circular ground began to rise up at an alarming speed. 

There was no food in the boy's stomach but that didn't stop him from feeling nauseous due to the quick pull upwards. He reached the top of the dungeon only to find that there was no ceiling to his prison at all. There was only darkness hovering above him like his ever-present forlorn storm clouds.

Matt shifted his position so that he was sitting straight up rather than leaning upon his sore elbows. Around him he could see nothing but darkness and feel nothing but bone-chilling fear. He felt so lost and confused, like he was a toddler again, wandering around some horrific nightmare while calling for his mother, but his mother never came to save him in his dreams, and he doubt that any rescuer would ever appear in the nightmare he was living now. 

He sat within the shadows undisturbed for sometime, and with each passing second he could feel his pulse quicken. Finally the suspense was too great, and he decided to call out into the darkness.

"Hello?" he started timidly, unable to control the quiver in his hoarse voice. "Is anyone there?" he tried again, but no answer came. 

He was surrounded by silence. No one responded to his calls, and the darkness made him feel as though he were blind.

The Dark Ocean is a place of despair; it is a mockery of every negative place, thought, and feeling that could be found in the real world. Legions of suffering take actual form here, rising from the black depths of the ocean and taking their place as continents and landmarks. For this reason there are many feared places in this bleak world, but one sanctuary of torment is known far above the others. A valley, where the very dirt on the ground and specs in the air are dried up bones, which have long since turned to dust. Where the black stone once was gray, but much blood, both innocent and wicked, was spilt upon the stones, staining them until at last they turned black with grief. All around the wind whispered tales of death, and sleet and ice coated the region in lifelessness.

The valley was in the northeast region of Mephistomon's continent, and it was called Gehena. It was the world's sepulcher, where the relics remaining were pieces of lingering lives. The valley was a testament to the darkness' cruelty, and soon the boy, being drug mercilessly against his will through the desolate land, would know exactly why. 

__

Their hold hurts so much, and it's been hurting ever since they grabbed me in the darkness and brought me to their courtyard.

Matt had waited in the darkness for several minutes. The circle shaped floor of the oubliette remained in the new black surroundings, and while the blonde was uneased by the obscurity around him, he didn't want to wait upon the circular floor for fear that it should lower once again. Gaining some confidence and resolution from reminding himself that he wanted to die, the young boy slowly shifted his position until he was on his hands and knees, then with cautious and small movements, he slowly crawled along the floor. 

A small smile pulled upon his chapped lips as he felt the smooth cool tile beneath his battered and scraped hands. The round floor was large and he still wasn't certain where it ended and where a new floor began. A disinterested sigh escaped the blonde's lips, and his patient with inching over the floor was slowly growing smaller. Just as he was about to give up his trek entirely he suddenly felt new texture beneath his cold and slightly numb hands. The texture of the new floor was rough and gritty, leading him to believe the floor unkempt and filthy. The coarse floor, despite its filthiness, was a welcome change from the polished tile, which the boy had grown accustom to. The new environment meant that he was making progress, and might actually escape the hellish creatures that brought him to this dingy castle and return to his precious ocean, which lie waiting for him in all of its black glory.

__

I should have known that escaping was not a possibility. If these **things** had gone to so much trouble to acquire me, then they certainly would not just allow me to escape. But I wonder what they want me for. Not even this dismal world could possibly have a need for a damaged object. 

Maybe they want to feed me to a pet, some kind of digimon dog. That would make a little sense, I suppose, I'm little better than leftovers anyway. Or maybe I am a leftover, all the precious children in the world are valued more than a royal feast to a starving beggar, but I was what the world didn't want. The one that could not satisfy even the hungriest of starving men. They had no need for me, I was only waste, not even fit to occupy a landfill. And so here I am, thrown to the dogs. I just wish I knew what they want with such worthless waste.

Eibolomon remained silent, hidden beneath their robs of darkness. Their faces were not visible, if they existed at all, and so could show no emotion. Their hands, which gripped tightly unto the boy's freezing bare arms, were not to be beheld. Their bodies were like the North wind, impossible to see, but often times painful and chilling to feel. 

Their hands held tightly unto their prisoner, pulling him over the dusty valley floor, while cutting off the circulation to the boy's pale arms by both gripping too tightly and freezing the limb, flesh, blood, and bone.

Matt had long sense resorted to biting his lip in order to contain cries of pain or pleas for mercy. Out of all that he had suffered since his arrival in the cursed world, these strange digimon's clasp upon his arms was by far the worse. The burning was worse than holding an ice cube for a prolonged period of time, because no matter how long he was in the apparition's hold, the pain never faded into numbness, it only escalated in intensity.

The blonde stole a quick look at his captors', then diverted his gaze to the dusty ground. Instantly dulling blue eyes fell upon the dirt beneath him. In many places the ashen sand had darkened, and the boy physically winced as he realize the reason for this. Trails of crimson flowed down his bare feet, and blotches of blood now dotted the path behind him, as the many cuts on the bottom of his tired feet left sovereigns to remind the decayed bones of what it was to have life-giving blood upon them. 

Matt's face curled up in disgust, as he was certain that the wounds upon his raw, sore feet would become infected due to the dust, which was slowly clogging the lesions.

__

How long have we been walking? Does time even exist here? Maybe not, maybe one day is an eternity and an eternity is one day.

The blonde soon gave up his pondering and allowed his mind a break from his personal torture. He focused strictly on putting one foot in front of the other, as he desperately tried to keep in step with his captors.

What ever path he now traveled, seem to go on forever, and the boy vaguely considered the possibility that the valley did go on until the end of the earth, or at least until the end of this pandemonium.

He wasn't certain what had compelled him to shift his gaze forward, but he was glad he did. The scenery below was hardly glamorous, and the sight of his own flesh been torn from the ground and his blood staining the earth was getting somewhat repetitive. But as his mirthless eyes lifted, and his sight changed, he began to feel an interest in something other than his own worthlessness.

__

Is that where they're taking me? But why such an extravagant place? Am I actually worth something to these things? Or is this simply false hope… that's it, there is no real hope for someone like me. Hope is beyond my reach, and far beyond what I deserve.

~*~*~

The icy north wind carried the sharp pieces of sleet through the obscure air, sending the tiny fragments colliding roughly into every object they came across. The ice was thrown from the penumbra heavens above, only to land on the cursed ground of Gehena and melt. The mountains, which circled the large valley, served as the northern and eastern walls to Mephotisomon's domain. The great peaks put all other land masses in the Dark Ocean to shame, as they stood like crude tombstones, which sprung from the land and took their rightful place, looming over the many deceased, buried in the soil of the valley. 

As the livid clouds above slowly circled the desolate land in a fashion which resemble the makings of a cyclone, the falling of sleet became even greater, and the size of the jagged ice became larger. The wind screeched over the land and broke through the clouds as they slowly darkened as accustom to the hour. While what little light the world held slowly burned away all other elements seemed to grow unease, and began making their presence far better known. The wind howled like a bloodthirsty wolf, the clouds crashed and swirled as though they had been containing a storm, which desperately needed its release. The soil seemed to breath as it remembered the life it once possessed, and the mountains stood taller, now that all light was fading they could no longer rely on shadows to rise their esteem, but were forced to look threatening and towering on their own accord.

To the phantom digimon, looking out upon the changing atmosphere, this was the most beautiful hour of the Avernal world. The livid light was slowly surrendering to the rule of darkness, and the entire world came to life, feeding and reveling in the cloak of shadows. It was a glorious sight to any creature born of the darkness and claimed by death and misery. Knowing that ultimately the light could never win, for wherever you find light there will always is darkness.

It was a suitable system to the apparition; to know that darkness always shadowed light, but it was not a satisfying one. Why should light always come first, why should it chase away darkness? Why could not cold, relentless blackness lay claim to the world? The darkness depended on the light, for it requires light to cast a shadow, but the light could exists quite comfortably without the darkness. Darkness needed light, but light did not need darkness, it was this problem that the cursed society of the resurrected was here to rectify. 

They had all they required to make the darkness independent and so free it from the chains of light. Soon the process would be complete. Darkness would hold the keys to its own existence and could then destroy the light without fear of its own demise.

"Very few sights captivate me as greatly as the sight of fading light." A high but incredibly even voice spoke fondly, as bright blue eyes mirrored the coming night with bedazzlement.

A simple smile pulled upon black velvet lips at the statement made by a small cat like creature. Eyes of deep blue glistened in the shadows as they look out upon the horizon. 

The walls of Gehena encompassed the land and reached the shore of the Dark Ocean. Standing higher and mightier than all other peaks of the damnable world was a black cliff, which had been carved, polished, and manipulated into the form of a great alter. The cliff had no real name, but was often referred to as Tophet, in mockery of the great mountain of slaughters in the real world. Tophet once reached into the gray clouds with a pointed summit and jagged natural cliffs, but many ages ago another servant of darkness, one which proved himself unworthy in the eyes of evil, saw the peak fit for something greater than simply a wall. And so after many laboring years, the once proud, but common, peak was shaved into a structure, which put all other landmarks in the desolate world to shame.

The once jagged black stone had been polished down until it glistened with traces of gray and silver minerals. The peak still stood higher than any other, but now had a smooth flat surface. In the center wall, which stood inside of Gehena, was placed an entrance to a great staircase. Craved directly from the mountain was a great opening, one which circled the square structure, steadily ringing its way up the cliff. The rock made up an arched tunnel like ceiling and gray steps which were small in height but large enough to accommodate relatively any digimon, no matter how heavy or large. Within every ten steps was a large flat floor with a great pillar carved from the floor unto the ceiling. Making up the outside of the arches was simple designs craved through the thin layer of stone. 

Over looking one side of Tophet was the dead valley of Gehena. Standing proudly on either side of the great peak was two other cliffs of the back stone, which was common in the hellish world. The last of the view was by far the most spectacular. The dark ocean laid out beyond and beneath the alter, its waves could be heard like a bittersweet melody lightly tapping upon the cliff and sometimes splashing onto the stairs, which encompassed and slowly rose to the top of the cliff.

"Is all in place?" the question came out as more of a sharp command.

Spectermon stood upon the balcony on the northeast side of Tophet. Below her the brine of the dark ocean swooshed and splashed, as the wind and gravity stirred the water roughly.

BlackGatomon and SkullSatamon stood silently behind the phantom, both scanning over the area with their glowing eyes, making certain that all was ready.

"Yes My Lady, the ritual may begin as soon as the boy arrives." The black feline digimon answered for both her self and her undead companion.

Spectermon smiled proudly, her white fangs glistened in the glow of vivid torches as her eyes sparkled with ill intent. 

"Good, the prize is almost here."

~*~*~

An accursed numen settled upon Gehena's floor. The feelings of despair and loneliness manifested themselves in the form of a thick numbi mist, which blanketed the land and rose high unto the cliffs, concealing the entrance to the encompassing staircase, which rose around Tophet. Darkness had stretched over the land, and with the shadows came an unspoken omen of suffering that had yet to come. Death rode upon a wind shaped carriage, having Aeolus gallop widely over the land, drawing its rider ever closer to their destination. 

The umbra clouds above rained down thin sharp pieces of sleet, which pierced flesh and collected upon the ground, making the land as cold as the air. The sleet would not melt, it would linger long through the night, coating all in ice, until dawns first vivid light caressed the horizon, awaking the world and casting back mist, shadow, and ice.

For the inhabitants of the Dark Ocean, such elements were common and easily dealt with, but for a human, barely clothed and half starved such a climate was unbearable. Matt could feel his bare feet freezing below him. His blood was running cold, and the sharp pieces of ice only served to further mutilate the tender pale flesh on the bottom of his feet. The blonde wished for one moment that the wraiths holding him tightly in an icy iron grip, would loosen their hold and let him wrapped his arms protectively around himself. He knew it wouldn't warm his bare chest and arms much, but even the thought gave him some comfort.

__

How easily we take things for granite. Something as simply as being allowed to curled up and fight off the cold has been taking away from me, and I never realized before what a wonderful gift it was.

Shivers began to move through the blonde's spine and slowly work their way into the rest of his limbs, until his whole body was shaking. The shivers were mild at first, but the colder Matt's body became, the more forceful the shaking became, until they turned into violent trembles. Straight white teeth began to chatter involuntarily, and the boy began to feel sluggish as his body slowly began to shut down.

__

I wonder why I'm here? I wonder where TK is. What if he's hurt or lost? No! That would never happen. Tai would never let that happen. He'd never abandon TK like I did. He'd never leave just because he felt like he didn't belong. TK deserves better than me. He deserves a role model worth idolizing. He deserves someone who can love and understand his innocence. He needs some one perfect and beautiful, not some one scared and ugly like me. 

The fog lied around azure eyes like a blindfold. Tired legs gave out under a bruised body, causing the boy's ankles to twist. Matt hissed in pain as his right ankle jerked inward, but had little time to dwell on the sharp pain as the fleshless hands of Eboilonmon yanked him back up, and the phantoms continued their trek at the same quick pace, despite their captives limping.

Matt struggled to remain on his bleedings bare feet with his now twisted right ankle, but the long walk was leaving him worn, and the lack of food made his head light and dizzy, but his stomach nauseous.

__

Why was I such a fool? Why did I ever try to escape that lovely ocean? Why did I ever try to swim from those black waves?… the waves? I can hear the waves!

The pre-teen's head shot up quickly as the sound of swooshing water cut through his delusion filled mind, causing everything else to seem obsolete.

As the blonde's clouded eyes cleared he realized that he was no longer faced with an eternal sea of gray fog and frozen earth, but was now standing before a great arch entrance, which seemed to tunnel straight into a mountain.

__

The monolith I saw from a distance. This is where we were going. But why?

The very sight of the entranceway sent a noticeable shiver down the boy's spine, making his trembling seem small and insignificant. A bone-chilling breeze pulsed from the arched tunnel, causing the blonde to instantly think of the cave which led him here. The wind was like the breath of a hungry beast, painting upon his tender flesh. But it was not savage, it was hungry, but not rapid. The chill seemed to carry a sad song through the air, and the blonde was almost positive he heard a little girl's gentle voice singing her last lullaby into the night.

The Eboilionmon seemed far less effected by the opening to Tophet, and after pausing for a few seconds, they began dragging their victim towards the entrance.

Matt wasn't certain why, but something within him told him that he did no want to ascend the stone staircase. The shadows beyond the entrance and the voice upon the wind, seemed more frightening than any other horror he had beheld in his sort time in the Dark Ocean. Something awaited him at the top of Tophet, and he knew it was not the peaceful eternal darkness he so desired.

~*~*~

So how did that go over? Still a little confused? Well join the club. This plot is slowly but surely writing itself, and I'm pretty sure it won't let me interfere much. But tell me honestly what do you think thus far? I know it's been a very long while since I've updated * and even that's an understatement * but if I still have any readers left I could greatly use your opinions.

Also I have a few terms I need to explain. A lot of the names and places in this fic are based on mythological and historical things. I use these names because I've noticed that a lot of things in the Digimon series is based off of myths and such from our world. you are more than welcome to use the idea for these things if you'd like, I don't own them. Also here is a brief explanation of what everything is or where they came from.

Diablery Cliffs: diablery mean devilment and comes from the Spanish word for devil Daiblo or Daibolus.

Gehena: Gehenna means in place of extreme torment or suffering. It's the valley of Hinnom near Jerusalem where propitiatory scarifies were made to Moloch.

Tophet: Topheth is another word for black or hell and was a place near Jerusalem where children were offered as sacrifices to Moloch.

Hall of Sleet: this comes from Noric mythology. The hall of sleet, otherwise known as Eliudnir, was the hall of Hel(or Hela) Norse goddess of the underworld.

Averal: this comes from Avernus, which was a small lake in the crater of an extinct volcano west of Naples, and was formerly believed to be the entrance to Hades (the ancient Greek equivalent of hell).

Aeolus: Aeolus was the Latin and Greek god of the North Wind.

So now you know what was going through my head when I wrote this.

Well anyway, please review, let me know if you're still here. It's been so long I doubt anyone stuck around. But I am still here and will continue to write. If no one's really very interested in this then I won't fret to get it done quicker, and will turn my attention to other projects. But if you still want to see more, and you want to know what awaits Matt at the top of Tophet, then please review or send some for of feedback. Also if you would like to be e-mailed he next time I update this just send me your e-mail address either via e-mail or review.

Until next time… 


	5. The Departed

A/N: okay this is actually the last chapter to this particular fic. This fic is the opener of a three-part series. Let me explain, this story takes place in three different times, during season one, right after season one, and then somewhere around season two. Rather then throwing the story together in a jumbled mess of three tales, I decided to divide them into three different fics. 

Just to give you a fair warning this chapter starts off slow, however, once it gets going there is a lot of angst and some gore.

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.

Prisoner of the Night

Part Five: The Departed

Thy soul shall find itself alone

'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone-

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude

Which is not loneliness, for then

The spirits of the dead who stood

In life before thee are again

In death around thee, and their will

Shall overshadow thee: be still.

__

-Spirits of The Dead, 

Edgar Allan Poe

The black water splashed up upon the stone staircase, washing over his bare feet. His thin body tensed as the brine touched his cut up feet, burning the dirty wounds with its acidic salt. From his kneecaps down the black scrubs were darker in color and clung to his thin calves as he took long steps. The water rose then fell again, at first rising above the boy's kneecaps, but now merely brushing his ankles. The higher he went, the further away the water became, something that grieved him more than he was willing to admit.

__

This world is so horrible, a hell in itself. A prison for the elite. The elite selected by delirium and delay. Pain, sin, and death, that's all this world knows.

The apparition's tight grip upon pale shoulders had long since been forgotten. Blonde hair fell into blue eyes unnoticed. The boy being led by souls, long departed from the natural world, did not need to see what was before him. All that mattered was that the ocean was slowly falling out of his reach. Two more steps and not even the powerful waves would have the strength to splash upon his aching feet. Blue eyes began to darken, he was being taken away from the one thing he desired most eternal numbness, eternal black.

__

It's over, I can't make it back. The ocean is too far away. I might would be better off just closing my eyes and maybe God would come looking for me. God or the angel of Death with his black wings and black halo, either way, it doesn't matter, just so long as one of them comes. Just so long as I don't have to hurt anymore. But if the past were any indication of what would occur in the future, then probably no one will come. Why would they? I'll be abandoned and left alone to wander in an endless limbo, just as I was abandoned when my family split up. Why would heaven or hell want me, when not even my own parents had a place for me?

Soon only traces of midnight blue, diluted by black, could be seen in the boy's once vibrant blue eyes. Now it was not just his golden locks that blinded him from the path before him but was also his own will that desired to see nothing more. Everything he had ever wanted had either abandoned him, or he was being drug away from, so nothing ahead mattered.

He continued to walk, the repetition making it easy for him to keep in stride with the Eidolonmon. Each step fell into the other, and it wasn't long before he had forgotten he was walking at all. He climbed the steps, his scrubs still damp but no longer soaking, his feet still aching but no longer burning, and his skin still chilled but no longer freezing. 

__

Why was I so easily tricked? I could have listened to Gabumon and just walked away, but instead I had to stick around. I had to take the easy way out. The right way would have been to just stick it out. I should have just dealt with my feelings of inadequacy and gotten over the fact that TK loved Tai more, but I didn't. Instead I went for a short cut. I convinced myself that there was so deeper meaning to my hatred and jealousy towards Tai. But there wasn't. I was jealous because he was everything I wasn't. Strong, carrying, unselfish, but me, all I care about is myself. 

The truth is that I am my own rival. I'm the one thing standing between myself and becoming all that I can be. But none of that matters now. I lost my chance, threw it away, and now the Digital World has thrown me away.

He had grown so accustom to the steady pace that when the phantoms stopped he was so startled that he nearly fell to the ground. The phantoms continued to hold his shoulders tightly, keeping him from slipping to the stone floor, however this only caused more pain as their invisible fingertips dug into his bare flesh so as not to loose grip of him. The blonde winced as he steadied himself, taking a breathe and realizing for the first time that he was on leveled ground and that there was no longer a multitude of stone steps before him.

"Just in time, we should begin immediately." 

Matt's head was down, his blonde locks still slipped into his eyes, covering most of the dull orbs. He recognized the voice, the deep, thaumaturgical tone that sounded something like the wind before a storm. Slowly he looked up, his dull eyes taking on a hint of weariness as he studied his surroundings carefully. A slight scowl appeared on his face as his eyes landed upon the owner of the voice. Already he was weary of the female digimon. Her voice in many ways soothed him, much like his mother's voice had years ago, and for that he hated her. But that was not the only thing that troubled him about the porcelain skinned digimon, the way she looked at him upon their first meeting still played with his mind, and he could not help but feel frighten in her presence.

When she first saw him her eyes seemed to light up like, those of a spoiled child looking upon a new toy with greed. That's what he felt like, a toy. He hated the feeling of not knowing what was next. Here he was in what seemed to be some deranged temple and yet he had no idea why.

"You're frightened." 

The statement immediately drew the blonde's attention back to his captors. He nearly jumped back when he realized how close the female digimon had gotten to him.

"No." he stated flatly, putting on his best fearless front. 

Spectermon now stood in front of him, a half-amused smile revealed her sharp fangs, causing Matt to cringe on the inside.

__

Is she a vampire?

The question was never resolved as the woman did something that fully startled the blonde. She gently, almost loving placed her gloved hand upon his check and smiled. 

Spectermon was more than pleased with the boy's courageous answer, and was growing more confident in her decision of selecting him. He trekked across the entire valley of Gehena and now stood amongst the damned, showing no fear or even interest in their presence. 

"Good." The lady phantom replied to her prisoner's earlier answer darkly, then pulled away and turned around.

Matt could still feel the cold that ran over his check from the phantom's fingertips upon his flesh. But thoughts of the lustful digimon's unusual behavior was quickly forgotten, as the Eidolonmon began dragging Matt deeper into the temple, reminding the boy that they had yet to release their hold upon him.

As Matt was being pulled into the temple he began to look around, noticing for the first time his aberrant surroundings. Pillars of light gray stone lined around the summit of Tophet forming a perfect circle. A large round slab of the same gray stone made up the floor of the temple, while the large round pillars made up the walls. Cracks interrupted the perfect flow of the room and could be seen upon both the pillars and the floor. There was no ceiling to the large structure; instead the black heavens covered the top, shrouding everything in darkness. 

Dusty metal stands were placed in front of each pillar, and at the top of the thin stands were placed metal bolls. Livid flames flickered inside the bolls, illuminating the temple in cold lifeless light. The wind still found its way into the temple, whistling loudly in the blonde's ears. The clouds rumbled softly above, and sleet still fell from the sky and into the temple. The ice would land upon the stone floor, melting quickly, leaving small blotches of water to litter the unkempt stone floor. 

After taking in ever detail of the gray temple, Matt found himself being oddly unimpressed. Compared to the ocean, the forest, and even the dungeon he had been imprisoned in, this temple seemed bleak and dismal. 

__

What is this place? And why am I here. It seems a bit of a waste to have a temple at the top of a great mountain, if the temple is only going to be a piece of cracked rock.

The Eidolonmon brought the blonde closer to the center of the room, then waited silent and still, making the boy wonder if they were even still there. 

"Tell me something child."

At this Matt was forced once again to turn his attention to the female digimon, whose very presence brought dread to the beaten boy's heart.

Once Spectermon was convinced she held the boy's full attention she continued with her question. "Why did you come here?" She asked, not even attempting to hide the seduction in her voice.

A chill ran down the blonde's spin as he gazed into the pale woman's dark blue eyes. He could see the unspoken rancor burning in those deep pools like an unquenchable fire. Hatred long keep within burned in her gaze, and somehow he felt as though he would receive the punishment for her confined animosity.

But Matt would not allow himself to remain intimidated, this digimon was no worse then anything else he had been forced to face, and so he swallowed his uneasiness and fought off the temptation of barking out some sarcastic insult. Normally his rebellious side was always the first to show, but his better judgment reminded him that he was at these creature's mercy, so his final resolution was to answer truthfully.

"I came here to die."

His tone was so casual and careless that the words lost some of their effect. If any normal person had heard him state such a thing so easily, then they would have certainly thought him to be on antidepressants, however, those with him now, and those who did hear his mirthless response found it plain and without reason for concern.

Spectermon at least seemed pleased with the reply, and her black lips once again pulled into a ruthless smile.

"You couldn't be more right my child." The apparition expressed with confidence before once again turning away from the boy and turning her attention to her servants who stood behind her. "Let's begin." She ordered quickly, earning her an obedient nod from both SkullSatamon and BlackGatomon.

This was the first time that the blonde even realized there were other digimon there besides the woman and his two cloaked friends.

__

It's the cat from before, but I've never seen the other digimon. And I thought that dinosaur in the egg was ugly.

At this thought a hint of life sparked in the boy's dull eyes, as he forced himself not to smile at the thought of how truly hideous some digimon could be. But his temporary escape from his horrid reality was short lived, and he was quickly pulled back to his painful place on the ground.

BlackGatomon, following her mistress' orders, rushed over to one of the pillars opposite of where Matt was being held. Once there she retrieved an item that had lain neglected on the stone floor. The item was not too large, but in comparison to the one holding it, it appeared to be a fairly good size. What it was none could tell for a simple, tattered black cloth lay draped over it, concealing it from the world. She carried the item, wobbling slightly while trying to run with it, over to Spectermon, who looked at her with an approving smile, before turning her focus to SkullSatamon.

The red and black devil had moved slowly to the very center of the temple. The undead digimon kept his head lowered, as a low growl escape from his lipless mouth. The demon then lifted his twisted wooden staff into the air; the yellow orb glowing eerily the higher it went. Once the staff was held fully above his black skull, the ultimate twirled it around once then brought the bottom of it down hard with both hands. 

Matt winced as the sound, of the metal hook, on the bottom of SkullSatamon's staff, meeting the solid gray stone below, echoed in his ears. The blonde had expected to look down and find even more cracks along with a small crater in the center of the floor, but to his surprise, nothing happened. Both the floor and the demon's staff appeared unaffected by the horrendous impact. 

For a moment everything seemed still. It almost seemed as though the undead's attack upon the floor had silenced the world. The clouds above no longer rumbled in warning of a coming storm, and the wind died leaving the air still and muggy. 

Matt watched curiously, believing all of the demon's efforts to have been a waste, that was until the temple began to change. Waves of color streamed from where the staff had fallen. The eerie yellow glow sucked back into the rod, then a new light shone from the demon's staff. Darkness, illuminated by some unseen source, formed a halo around the crude wooden staff and from this darkness more color bled, dripping upon the gray floor like liquid. 

The colors sprinkled from the illuminated staff falling to the floor in tiny droplets. The droplets then began to spread out, filling the thin cracks in the stone floor with all shades of blue, dark purple, white, and black. 

To Matt it almost seemed like the staff was a sprinkler, shooting paint all over, but as he looked closer at the colors, he realized that the liquid was not dense enough to be paint. The fluid held the density of water, yet the colors were still dark and never once were they tainted by the gray below.

Soon the many colors began to coat the whole of the floor, turning it into a sea of chroma. Matt stumbled back slightly, as the color began to near his bare feet, however he could not move far due to his captors' hold, and so was forced to let the sea wash over his feet. He wasn't certain what he was expecting the chromaity to feel like, but he certainly was not expecting what he got. It felt like nothing. The colored water spread over and past his feet, but he could not feel it, it was almost as though the sea was not there at all.

Once everything was coated in the thin liquid, the show ended. The light faded from the staff, leaving it crooked and plan, the liquid seeped into the gray stone dying it until the rock took on a color, and the temple that was once dull and gray transformed completely. The pillars were now a dull black, the rim connecting the top of the pillars turned into a light blue, the very color of the Crest of Friendship when it was glowing with power. The floor once cracked, dusty, and gray was now a dark blue. In the center of the floor was painted a symbol, white angelic wings trapped within large purple demon pennons.

__

What does that symbol mean? What does any of this mean? Why is it that no matter where I go, I always feel so helpless? It always seems like everyone else is in on this great secret and I'm left outside, wondering what the answer is. It was like this at home, at school, and even with the other Digidestined. And now I'm standing as an outsider again, only this time the secret is me.

Spectermon seemed pleased with what had just transpired, the change in the temple was obviously necessary and approving to her, however, BlackGatomon and even SkullSatamon, who had brought about the transformation, seemed bored with the whole event. So the phantom maiden decided not to delay any longer, she did not want to displease her audience, this day was too important for it to not be remembered with pride and intensity.

"Bring the boy over here." She ordered coldly, while her dark eyes stared upon the symbol on the floor.

Matt pulled back at first in a weak attempt of defiance, but ultimately gave up and allowed the Eidolonmon to usher him closer to the center of the round temple.

Until this point Spectermon's eyes had remained locked upon the now painted floor. Her interest in Matt seemed to have lessened, that was until the boy stood but three feet away from her. Once he was near her, the phantom's head shot up, startling Matt as he noticed the change, which had come upon her. Her eyes once dark like the evening sky now glowed like winter's cold silver moon.

Spectermon's gaze did not remain upon the boy long, for she quickly turned to SkullSatamon, who seemed to be waiting patiently for some sort of order. She nodded to him, giving her silent command, and the demon complied. He raised his staff once more on this time he merely pointed it at the floor.

Despite Matt's growing anxiety, he was actually getting very bored. He had no idea what was coming, nor did he realize what these strange digimon were doing. It was a sort of ritual, one that had to be performed correctly. The temple was incredibly crucial in the ceremony, however, a place of such value should never remain out in the open. So in order to protect the temple from attack or destruction the phantoms disguised it, turning it gray so that it would appear worthless and abandoned. Now that there was a need for the temple it had to be restored to its true state.

SkullSatamon continued to point at the symbol on the floor, when suddenly the outline of both sets of wings began to glow. Lines of white and dark purple shot up from the floor, and then the floor itself began to change. A stone rectangle lying vertically down the center of the two sets of wings began to slowly rise from the floor. The outline upon the wings continued to glow until the stone tablet had risen three and a half feet high. Once the solid stone rectangle had risen to its full height, the wings stopped glowing and for a moment everything was still.

Matt looked upon the change in the temple with curiosity, wondering what the tablet could be for, however, he did not get a chance to muse on it long as suddenly the black wraiths began pulling him towards the stone.

Matt jerked back slightly, suddenly frightened as he shouted. "What's going on?"

His questioned seemed to fall upon deaf ears as the digimon went about with what they needed to do, taking no notice of him. The blonde struggled as he was dragged towards the altar, his eyes widening as the fear of a thousand possibilities ran through his mind. Then the question the female digimon had asked him earlier came racing back in a storm of fear and regret.

"Why did you come here?"

"I came here to die."

"You couldn't be more right my child."

__

It all makes sense now; they're going to kill me. Why am I so afraid? Didn't I want to die, aren't they giving me exactly what I desire. Yes I want to die, to hurt no more, but whenever I'm faced with the reality of death I'm afraid, and I run. Like in the ocean, I could have just drowned, let the black depths take me, but I fought instead. Then that strange digimon in the forest, I could have let him eat me, but what did I do, I ran. Now here I am about to be given the one thing I really want, and I'm afraid. Maybe I'm just not strong enough to die.

The Eidolonmon brought him to the table of stone. Once at the altar's side Matt stopped fight, and simply let himself be manipulated by the dead hands of the forsaken. Blue eyes looked at the stone alter accusingly, blaming it for his current confusion. He wanted to die, but he didn't have the courage to do so, so he tried to blame his fear on the alter, as the wraiths lifted him up roughly, not caring that his tired legs hit hard again the side of the table. He was then thrown on his back with little care, pain shooting through his spine as it met the hard surface.

The blonde coughed hoarsely as the wind was knocked out of him from being slammed onto the stone, he then tried to sit up, hoping it would better help him catch his breath. However, the moment he began to rise one of the Eidolonmon pushed him back down, then held him down by the neck. While the one Eidolonmon held him down, the other moved around the later attending to another task. Anytime Matt began to fidget or even breathe too deeply, the phantom holding him would tighten his grip, choking the blonde for a moment in a cold grasp. After nearly having the life squeezed out of him twice, the blonde decided to make an effort not to move, finding that he had no choice but to comply with the cloaked digimon's wills.

Cold latched around his ankles, and he wanted to look up so badly, to see what was been done to him by his other captor, but he didn't. Instead he closed his eyes tightly, and focused on the sounds of the waves splashing below him. The ocean was so close, but he would never reach it for now he was being chained to a stone altar.

The restrains that the Eidolonmon latched upon the boy's ankles were unusual, and a definite work of the powers of darkness. The wraith with its formless hands reached into solid stone, pulling out latches that cuffed the victim's feet tightly to the stone. Once both ankles were secure he moved to both wrist. Reaching into the stone he pulled the restraints out, molding the stone around the wrist so that it was perfect, then the stone would darken until its entire structure had changed into metal.

Matt shuddered slightly, as the last restraint was placed upon his left wrist, and then finally he dared to open his eyes. The restraints on his ankles were chains, allowing his legs slightly more comfort than his wrist, which were clamped tightly to the altar. He looked over the temple, unable to see the Eidolonmon, it was like the wraiths had simply disappeared. He wasn't certain why, but he found the three remaining digimon far more ghastly than the bodiless phantoms cloaked in black. 

They stood on the right side of the alter, SkullSatamon further back, so that the blonde could only see his lower body, though he felt certain that the demon was watching him with a twisted smile. Closer stood Spectermon, her face emotionless while her eyes shone with contemplation. She stood still and with great poise, like a marmoreal statue, not even her breathing was noticeable upon her frame. Upon the lady phantom's shoulder, resting comfortably, sat BlackGatomon. Her blue eyes were sparkling with delight, and she purred softly into her Mistress' ear, biding her to complete the ceremony as she was looking forward to watching the boy struggle in misery.

Though he was afraid Matt refused to show it. He kept his intimidation hidden behind a resentful scowl, trying to look more upset and annoyed then terrified and awe stricken. 

Spectermon suddenly smiled, the action occurred so quickly that Matt visibly pulled back. This show of uneasiness only seemed to please his captors more, and the blonde found himself immediately regretting the action. But soon his brief display of fear was replaced with a look of interest as Spectermon, still grinning, lifted an item, she had been holding, up so that the boy could see it.

"Do you know what this is child?" she questioned smoothly, enjoying her game as much as the pet upon her shoulder.

Matt's shadowed blue eyes narrowed upon the item, looking it over closely, before he shook his head numbly, showing that he knew nothing about it. Even though he could not recall seeing the strange item before, it did not stop the sea of emotions, which flooded his soul the moment he focused upon it. The item was a twisted metal stand and locked in the center was a dull black orb. The very sight of it made him shudder, as though dead hands were upon him again. The item's very essence was identical to that of the dark ocean.

Spectermon smiled once again, her wicked demeanor seemed to make the item glow. "This is the Digi-Mental of Darkness." The female digimon began, while a hint of pride entered her voice. "Long ago, when evolution first came upon the Digital World, a great defect fell upon the digimon. Their world was progressing, but they remained simple, barely conscious creatures, surviving on instinct alone. As the world grew more advanced the demand for an advanced race to inhabit it grew great. To answer the call their world put upon them Digimon began to evolve. However, the price of reaching the next level is often far too great, and many digimon did not survive the digi-volveing process. Their data was too weak to grow, and so it broke apart and was discarded like waste. It was thrown away to a desolate land, where no demands for further evolution could be placed upon them. That desolate land quickly became this bleak world." 

Spectermon paused for a moment, her dark blue eyes stared hatefully at nothing as she recalled the past, and Matt found himself entranced by the change. 

__

So digimon that were not strong enough to digivolve are sent here. Maybe I do belong here after all.

Soon Spectermon's attention returned to her victim and the emotion fled from her porcelain face once more. "As time went on the digivolveing process became less difficult as the Digital World found a bridge, making the crossing from one level to another more bearable. This bridge came from the creativity and energy found in human children. As time past the souls of the digimon cast away into this world became restless. This world was nothing but a flat gray plane. The souls wandered this plane aimlessly and alone, with only the sky above to save them from their dismal surroundings, for the sky was a mirror, reflecting all that occurred in the Digital World. They could look into the sky and see the world they had been cast from. The color and joy that surrounded the digimon of the Digital World shone down from the sky, but the souls could never touch the beautiful light, it past through them jeering at them, as it fell upon the gray plane and faded into nothing."

Spectermon paused once more, casting her eyes upon the smooth floor below, and for a moment Matt felt sympathy for the phantom. 

"The souls seeing that they would never feel the warmth of light again, began to cry bitter and sorrowful tears. Their tears rained down upon the world endlessly, until it flooded the whole of the plane. The gray was concealed by an ocean of black tears. Underneath the waters the plane tasted the black tears, feeling the forsaken digimon's grief, once it tasted their pain, pity came upon it. The very essences of this world grieved for the souls, and wished to help ease their pain, and so the world itself began to change. The plane molded and was reshaped in the Digital World's image. Then the ocean began to boil. As the ocean boiled the water began to evaporate, the steam rising into the sky. Soon the evaporation covered the whole of the sky, forming great clouds in the heavens, blocking out the painful images of the light. And the souls which once looked upon the darkness as a prison, found comfort in the shadows."

"For some time the souls remained in peace, however, no such good thing can last. It was not long before the digimon of the Digital World evolved to their highest levels. And as they began to grow they, saw the need to expand their territory. They found a way to break the barrier between our worlds and flooded upon our forsaken home in a sea of animosity. They brought their wars and hatred to our world of numbness. The souls fled their coming, hiding deep in the ocean. The digimon brought with them the ability to create land, using special spells. Continents rose from the ocean, and the light from their world shone brightly through the clouds, illuminating the world in livid gray. As the digimon fought their wars upon the surface, blood spilt into the ocean and the souls grew restless. They could not find seclusion, not even in their own tears. They began to mourn again, crying out woefully at their own misfortunes, and again the world heard their call. While it could do nothing to cast out the invading digimon, it could give the souls, its children, the power to fight back."

Matt stared deep into the phantom's eyes, getting lost in her tale. The phantom spoke so passionately about the past and so fondly about the darkness, that he could not help but wonder if she was not one of the souls cast aside by her own world.

"Before, evolution had been too difficult, but the need for it had grown too great. The darkness focused its power and from the depths of the ocean it created these, the digi-mentals. They were special tools, that could invoke evolution no matter what the circumstances. And so those with the strongest desire to drive the digimon from their world, were given the mentals and the task of saving their world. They used the digi-mentals and rose up, forming a new level of evolution know as Armored. The new breed of digimon fought valiantly against the invaders, and victory seemed but a horizon away, however, the Digital World retaliated. During a great battle they captured one of our own, took him to the cursed Digital World, and looked him behind a wall of fire, but not before scanning his data to find the secrets behind the digi-mentals. It was not long before they discovered that darkness itself manifested within the digi-mentals. And so to retaliate they created their own digi-mentals, as mockery of our power they made theirs of pure light. The battles consumed the world, and blood spilt into the ocean. The souls cried out once more, and the warriors begged for retribution as their allies fell around them. The darkness once again heard their call and answered."

"Light tainted our world and so the darkness only saw it fit to mock this. Darkness was sent to the Digital World in the form of black gears. The gears spread upon the world infecting many with their power. Other gears were buried deep within the land, where they lied and waited in case they should be needed by those now infected by darkness. It was not long before the Digital World realized what was occurring, and for fear that more would be infected by this virus it closed the door between the two worlds, leaving its own people to die admits the darkness. Retribution came quick, and those who were left behind by their world were slaughtered or enslaved. And once again the souls found peace, but even though our world is at peace we are still tainted by the relics of the war. Their land still litters our ocean, and many of those who were infected by darkness have found their way here to become Lords and servants amongst us. This is tolerable, however, what is not tolerable is how easily the light escaped. The pain it caused us was never justified, we want absolution. The light will go out forever, and darkness will reign at last."

At this Spectermon paused once more, then thoughtfully added. "Out of all of the digi-mentals created only eleven remain, ten for the light and one for darkness. The odds are against us, which is why" she stopped for a moment looking down at the boy with a cruel smile, "we need you."

Spectermon turned around quickly walking away from the boy then gave an order, "Let's begin."

At these words a circular stand rose from the floor, much like the altar had. The stone stand stood as high as the altar, however, it was small and round. Spectermon walked lazily to the stand, then gently placed the Digi-Mental of Darkness upon it.

After she placed the digi-mental down she turned around on her heal, so that she was once again facing the altar. 

"Now Matt I want you to relax, you won't feel a thing." BlackGatomon's maniacal voice rang in the blonde's ears, and he shifted his head straining his neck so that he could try and see the feline.

He couldn't see her; she had at some pointed jumped off of Spectermon's shoulder and was now somewhere behind him, but even though he could not look upon her face he was certain that she was smirking at him.

Spectermon seemed to ignore BlackGatomon's teasing, as she had grown incredibly use to the feline's antics, and turned to SkullSatamon who was still standing off to the side. She made eyes contact with the demon, giving him a quick nod, and without hesitation the undead digimon rose his staff up, then threw the bottom back to the ground causing a cracking sound to echo through the temple.

However the echo from the staff was quickly forgotten and drowned out as the unexpected sound of Matt screaming rang off the pillars. The boy's eyes were shut tightly, the unexpected pain that had come with the tap of the demon's staff, had sent a bloodcurdling scream from his wrist, into his lungs, then out of his mouth, and into the air. He hadn't wanted to scream, and if he had been prepared he might not have, but the sudden pain was both shocking and sickening.

"Oops!" the sound of BlackGatomon's jeering voice played in the blonde's ears once his screaming had died down to painful whimpers, "I guess you would feel something…" she stated with a giggle, enjoying the sight of the boy squirming on the alter.

Matt was whimpering and painting, trying with all his might to suppress his tears, but they leaked from his tired eyes anyway. He had finally opened his eyes, nothing but black hovered above him. He wanted to look down at his wrist, but the fear of what he would see gripped roughly upon his heart. For a moment he could only stared at the darkness above him, wishing that he had a less gloomy subject to look at, but soon the throbbing, mixed with the stinging got the better of him, and he dared to look at his restrained wrist.

His panting grew worse as his eyes met with his fear, and nausea began gnawing at his stomach, threatening to spew its empty contents if he did not look away. The darkness would have been a welcoming sight, but the image he had just seen was burned too deeply into his mind, and was now all he saw. The image of his pale wrist still clamped in iron, but now stained in crimson with large metal spikes running through them. Two large spikes, one for each wrist, had shot up from the altar, impaling the blonde's wrist before passing through them entirely. Now the slightly dull tips of the metal spikes poked out of his flesh and blood spilt around it. 

The dense crimson liquid ran from the altar through small passages carved on the side of the stone. The passage ran into a thin line, which made up the outline of the two sets of wings upon the floor. Spectermon watched, her eyes intense, as the blood slowly pored from the boy's veins.

The pain the wounds caused still shot through the blonde's body, and his breathing had yet to even out, as a whimper occasionally past from his lips. 

__

Why? If these digimon have been caused so much pain, then why do they want to torment others? 

It's finally happening, but now I don't want to die. I want to go home, back to Gabumon, TK, and the others. Now they'll never know how much they truly meant to me. Now Friendship will be lost forever.

These thoughts and many others began circling the blonde's mind as the darkness, which hovered above him, slowly began to descend. He now knew he was going to die, and thinking about it only caused more pain. He wished they'd retract the spike so his blood would spill from his veins quickly, instead of this slow prolonged death. But even these thoughts faded eventually, and he slowly grew weak, shadows crept upon his eyes and he shut them, giving into his weakening state.

The regret, fear, and pain all faded, and the last thoughts that past through his mind was the registering of Spectermon's far off voice stating, "Bleed him dry."

~*~*~

"Oh Matt you're bleeding!" a woman with long dirty blonde hair and sparkling baby blue eyes, expressed in concern as she knelled at her son's side. "How ever did you manage that?" she asked sweetly, while giving her little boy a kind smile.

The boy, however, did not respond. His wild golden hair fell into his eyes of ice blue, while a contemplative frown pulled at his lips and brow. His eyes, which obviously came from his mother, were identical and yet nothing like hers. The mother's eyes were bright and carefree, but the boy's eyes were deep and thoughtful, they reflected all they saw with such intensity that you would never believe that such eyes belong to a three-year-old.

"Come on sweetheart, let's take care of that cut." The woman coaxed gently. By now she had grown use to her toddler's aloofness. Even when the boy was there his thoughts and spirit seemed so far off, that the woman often wondered if didn't drift to some unreachable realm.

"Why do we bleed?" the question came out softly but with such an innocent tone that the woman was forced to smile. She had grown use to her child's unusual questions about life, it was his questions about death that unnerved her, to her, a three-year-old shouldn't even know what death is, let alone ask questions about it.

"We bleed because when our skin gets cut blood has a way to get out of our bodies'." The woman answered wisely, while pushing a few strands of her long hair behind her ear.

At first the boy did not reply, his eyes never once shifted to his mother's face, but instead they remained on his little thin finger. His pale fingertip had been cut by the white latter on his red fire truck. This was the first time the little blonde could ever recall bleeding, he had seen his mammy and daddy stump their toes, or accidentally cut themselves with a kitchen knife, so he knew what blood was, but he had never bled and the feeling was strange.

"Mammy why do we have blood?" the little boy asked in the same curious tone as before, finding none of his questions unnatural.

The woman sighed almost regrettably. She wasn't certain what was suppose to come with motherhood, but this was not what she had expected. It at first had seemed like it would be fun, a little baby, like her own little alive doll, to dress and feed and play with. She would see other new mother's with their children, still glowing with hope for their offspring's life. She often wondered why she couldn't have that, why she couldn't have been given a dependent little angel full of life and hope, instead of this independent boy of ice. How could a woman's life be full of hope, when her child was already thinking about death?

Slowly the woman touched her stomach; the signs of new life growing within her were already evident. The thought that maybe she would get her life affirming hope after all gave her reason to continue dealing with the hopelessness before her.

"We have blood, because our bodies need it to stay alive." She explained patiently, knowing that her boy would not be satisfied until his questions were answered.

"Why?" the little boy asked that oh so difficult question to answer.

Again the woman sighed, now growing slightly annoyed with what seemed like a pointless conversation. "Because without it we'd die." She expressed bluntly, before stretching to stand. Her back ached, she was barely in her third trimester and yet she was already ready to have the baby. Ready to hold her chance for redemption in her arms.

"Come on sweetie, let's got put a Band-Aid on that cut."

The boy didn't move at first, his eyes still remained upon the tiny blotches of deep red that was collecting on top of his finger. Finally he seemed to be satisfied with his observation and stood as well, following his mother to the hall of their small apartment.

"Mammy, is there anyone who doesn't bleed?" the toddler asked, as he walked with poise and balance, something which too was unusual for a child of his age.

At this the woman chuckled a bit, she was beginning to accept her fate. She was forever doomed to have a profound poet rather than a carefree child.

"I don't know sweetheart," she replied, answering the question with little interest, "Ghost, maybe."

The boy nodded, accepting the answer for now. He'd ask what ghosts were later.

~*~*~

"Daddy?" a little blonde boy asked, suddenly braking the silence that had filled the waiting room.

A tall man who had been pacing up and down the off white tile floor of the waiting room stopped abruptly and turned to his son, who was sitting calmly in one of the mustard yellow plastic chairs the room had to offer.

"What is it sport?" the man asked attentively, actually thankful for the distraction.

The boy was silent for a moment, almost as though he was debating on whether or not he should ask his question. Finally the silent debate seemed to have ended, and the boy gathered his thoughts, put them in order, and asked his question. "What does being born mean?" the child asked thoughtfully, the question had been gnawing away at him ever since they had arrived at the hospital.

"What do you mean son?" the man asked kindly, as he walk over and took a seat beside the composed child.

The little blonde toddler looked at his father, his usually distant eyes shinning with affection. "You said that my brother is being born." He explained simply. 

The man smiled then thought of the best way to explain his answer. "Well, son," he began somewhat uncertainly, "It means that your baby brother is coming into this world." he stated as though his explanation should hold all of the answers the boy needed.

The toddler nodded, his blonde hair falling over his fair face as his head went up and down, "So what world is he in now?" 

"Huh?" the man responded intelligently, before running the question through his mind again. "It's not that he's in another world, Matt," the man began, reminding himself that he had to be specific with his answers, "It's that his life is about to begin." 

Matt nodded again finding the answer much more understandable. "Daddy?"

The tall man's attention fell upon the swinging doors to the delivery room, where his wife was about to give birth prematurely to their second son. 

The man didn't answer, and so the boy tried again. "Daddy?"

This time the man jumped slightly at the distraction and turned back to his son with a false smile. "Yes?" he asked kindly, masking the worry in his voice wonderfully.

"Was I born?" The child asked with genuine curiosity.

The man smiled, he personally found his sons unusual questions to be cute and a good sign that his son will have a healthy appetite for knowledge when he gets older. "Of course, all living things were born." 

"So I'm alive." The boy asked almost in shock.

At this the man's brow crinkled up, and he was suddenly concerned with the direction this conversation was taking. "Of course son." He answered worriedly.

"How do you know?" the boy asked seriously, his face passive and his tone even.

The man was about to answer, when suddenly the swinging doors to the delivery room flew open and a doctor dressed in blue scrubs came out barring a cheerful smile.

"Congratulations Mr. Ishida, you have a healthy baby boy." The doctor began, allowing the relief to sink in to the once worried man before he continued. "The infant will have to remain in an incubator for a little while, but you should be able to take him home in a week."

The doctor and Mr. Ishida began talking, leaving the boy alone and his question unanswered.

~*~*~

"His fever's not dropping!" the woman with dirty blonde hair, now cut a little above her shoulders, cried in concern.

"Of course not honey," the tall man with dark hair replied with frustration. "You just took his temperature five minutes ago, you can't expect it to just drop dramatically in such a short amount of time, in fact if it did we'd have more to be fearful of than to celebrate."

Despite her husbands calm state, no relief came over the woman. At first she listened to her husband's logical explanation attentively, but once he was through a sour looked appeared upon her dainty features, and anger flashed in her bright blue eyes. "Does it not even worry you that our son is sick?!" she questioned, as she walked from her place in the hallway over to the couch, where her husband sat comfortably flipping through the newspaper.

"Of course I'm worried, but Nancy, children get sick all of the time. I'd be more concerned if he never got sick like Matt. We were blessed with one extremely healthy child, so I think we can handle one with a mild chase of the flue." The man's gruff voice went soft as he spoke about his two boys. He wasn't a very emotional person, you could never tell what he truly felt from his words because they were always void of sentiment, but what his mind could not phrase and put together, his voice portrayed perfectly. His tone always went soft and affectionate when he spoke of his children.

"You call hiding in the back, and having no friends healthy?" the woman questioned in regards to her husband's reply. She loved both of her sons equally, but her eldest was an enigma to her, and she was tired of his melancholy state.

"He's just shy, it's natural for someone his age." The man answered with an amused smile, not seeing the true concern his wife was expressing.

The woman shook her head in disagreement. Between her worry for her youngest son and her built up concern for her eldest son's possible depression she had had enough. Her worries had grown too great, and they needed a release, so she took them out upon the only source available, her fast temper being something that her oldest son would inherit. "There is nothing natural about that boy's behavior! Why won't you let me take him to a psychologist so that he can get some help, and work past what ever is making him so depressed."

At this the man stood up as well, knowing what was coming, and falling right into what was becoming a nightly ritual for the couple. "You mean so you can work past it." He replied aggressively, howeve,r he kept his voice low, knowing that his son's were asleep down the hall. "There is nothing wrong with Matt, just because he's not as outgoing as TK doesn't mean that he's depressed."

"You don't know that!" the woman shot back, letting her emotions rule over her judgment. "TK idolizes Matt, what if he becomes like him? What if he becomes reserved and moody all of the time?" she cried out of fear of loosing her second son to the hovering dark cloud which had already claimed her first.

The man's voice fell down to a whisper, and he reminded his wife that their children were only two walls and a door away. The woman complied with her husband's wish for softer "conversation", and the two continued their pointless bickering, only now the child listening in the shadows could no longer hear what they were saying.

__

Is there really something wrong with me? I guess there must be, or mom wouldn't have said something. Is it really bad for me to be around TK? I don't want it to be, I don't ever want to be separated from TK. He's not just my little brother he's my friend, and friends are the most important thing in the world. But mom did say I have no friends… maybe I don't. Maybe the few I do sit with at school and TK aren't really my friends at all… maybe I'm alone.

A sharp pain ran through the boy's stomach, and he clutched at his sides with both hands as he fell to his knees on his bedroom floor. He had gotten up because he was hot, really hot, and needed a glass of water. After waking up with his hair soaked in sweat and his pillow and blanket damp, he crawled out of bed, loving the feeling the cold wooden floor sent through his sweaty feet. He then tiptoed quietly over to his brother's bedside. He looked down at the three-year-old fondly, smiling with the deepest affection, as he pulled the covers over the little boy's small frame and kissed his forehead gently, taking note that the toddler was still warm with a fever.

A frown appeared on the seven-year-old's face, as he thought about how unfair it was for such a generous little boy like his brother to get the flue. He probably would have sat there a little bit longer watching over the sleeping angel and having completely forgotten his quest for a drink in his worry for his brother, however, the sound of his mother's concerned voice, muffled by walls, drifted to his ears. Frowning he walked from his brother's bedside to their bedroom door, opening it a little so that he could better hear the conversation taking place outside.

He feared that it was a start of another argument, and his fear was soon justified as the two adults broke out into their petty bickering. The truth was that the little boy didn't know how often these arguments took place. He only viewed them on a few occasions, but every time he did, it always seemed the same, he was always at the center of their anger. He never woke up on the nights when the couple would fight about finances, retirement, and work, all of which were topics that came up far more often then their offspring. He never saw that his parents' fought just to fight, the only arguments that ever stirred him from his slumber were those pertaining to him and his unusual behavior.

__

They're fighting again, and it's all my fault. If only I was a better person, then they wouldn't fight anymore. They'd be happy like before. It's my fault, I'm weak, I'm not strong enough to be outgoing. It's my fault they fight, they were so happy before, it's all my fault.

The sharp pain now rose from his stomach to his chest. His head was pounding and stars danced across his eyes. He felt weak and shaky, and the cold from the floor melted away as his body temperature rose.

He had never asked his parents for anything, except the sea of questions when he was younger, but even that ceased to wash upon them as he grew. The truth was he didn't feel as though he could ask them for anything. What right did he have to trouble them with his trivial needs or desires? So any time something bothered him or he needed something he kept it to himself, never once daring to speak up and voice his request. But now he was so lost. He had never been sick before. He didn't understand, and he hated the weak feeling spreading through his body.

After a few minutes of agony on his bedroom floor he forced himself to get up, pushing back the illness as much as possible. Staggering out of the room, while still taking care not to wake his slumbering baby brother, he walked into the living room, where his parents still argued in hush voices.

At first neither of the adults noticed their son's presence, and the boy's eyes and ears were too occupied with dizziness and pounding to tell him what his parents were fighting about. Finally after the young boy leaned back for support on the wall, causing a slight thump, the two adults turned their attention to him, both frowning with concern as they saw him.

His blonde hair was a tangled mess and was sticking to his skin from being so damp. His face seemed unusually pale, and his eyes were glazed with an obvious fever.

Both adults instantly fell into a state of panic, upon seeing their son in such a state. The woman without a second thought ran to her son's side, and went to one knee so that she could better look him in the eyes. Her hand rose to his forehead and she nearly whimpered upon feeling the heat coming from the seven-year-old's face. "Matt are you all right?" she questioned with worry, already knowing the answer to the question, but needing to see if her son was aware enough to answer.

The sound of his mother's voice broke through the fever, allowing the blonde's eyes to clear for a moment, just long enough for him to make his one and only request. "Please don't hate each other anymore over me." He begged, before his blue eyes glazed over again and then shut. With one shuddering breath he fell into his mother's arms unconscious.

The woman stared straight ahead for a moment, the panic and fear having rendered her frozen. Her boy, her precious little boy was sick. Finally her frozen state wore off, and she jumped into action. "Call an ambulance!" she cried in distress, while turning her head in search for her husband.

Her cry however came late, as the man was already speaking with the emergency operator, and an ambulance was already on its way.

~*~*~

"You're son has a case of the stomach virus that's been going around. Really I wouldn't worry about it, I've seen a lot of kids from the surrounding area with it." The doctor explained friendly. He had already seen the younger Ishida boy earlier that week, and so was familiar with the family. "His cause for fainting like that was dehydration due to the high fever and low potassium levels. I recommend you alter his diet so that he is eating plenty of bananas, and drinking lots of orange juice. As for the virus, you can start him off on your younger son's antibiotics when he gets home. Matt's prescription will be ready tomorrow at noon."

"Thank you doctor." Mr. Ishida stated gratefully, before the doctor turned and left to deal with other patients.

Sadly the tall man turned to where his son laid resting on an ER bed. The IV stuck in the boy's left wrist caused the man to shudder. Matt's fever had already dropped down to normal, however, the doctors wanted to make sure he was hydrated before they sent him home, so they used the IV to send fluid to the child's blood stream. 

__

How could an illness just hit so quickly, Matt was fine when I put him to bed.

Mr. Ishida sighed then told himself to be strong. He wanted to throw a little pity party for himself, after all both of his sons were sick and now one of them was lying in a hospital bed, but one look around the hall of the ER dissolved any such desire.

The doctor wasn't lying when he said that many kids in the area were suffering from the same virus, right now as he stood outside his son's room, he could see two other families dealing with the same thing. Both had kids about TK's age sick and lying in the hospital bed with the same IV's in their wrist. One of the patients was a little girl, and from what Mr. Ishida could tell she had dark brown hair and was wearing pink pajamas. The other patient was a little boy with indigo hair, pale skin, and was wearing light green pajamas.

Both had the whole family waiting for them, and he envied the men who had their wives to stand by them. Also to his surprise the patients' older brothers were both allowed back into the ER. He knew that this wasn't allowed, but he assumed that the doctor in charge made an exception. He was a very easygoing man, with kids of his own, and both Nancy and Mr. Ishida were grateful to have found him.

"Hey mister, what's wrong with your kid?" 

Mr. Ishida jumped startled out of his thoughts by the friendly address. "Huh?" he questioned in confusion as he looked down, standing beside him and looking into Matt's room curiously was a boy about Matt's age, maybe a year or so younger, with bushy brown hair, olive skin, soccer pajamas, and goggles hanging around his neck. 

The tall man smiled, finding the careless show of curiosity to be amusing and far different from what he was accustom to. Matt had always been very respectful of people's space and privacy, so the little boy intruding upon his was new and entertaining. "He's got the virus that's been going around." He explained with a kind smile.

"Oh," the little boy replied, the cheer in his voice leaving him for a moment. "I had that, and so did my friend Izzy from soccer camp, and a bunch of my other friends from soccer camp, but we didn't have it really bad. But my friend Sora has it really bad, and she had to come to the hospital last night." The boy explained, not turning away from the open door, which led to the sleeping blonde's room. "She got to ride in an ambulance, and it had flashing lights and went roer….eror….eor…roer, like that." 

"Well I'm sure that was very exciting for her." Mr. Ishida replied with a smile.

The boy shook his head then answered, "Nuh-uh, she was asleep the whole time." As the boy explained this he rose his hand up in a hopeless gesture, his voice becoming more dramatic to emphasize a point.

"Taichi!" a woman's voice scolded softly, causing the boy to wince, "Get over here right now, and stop bugging that man!" 

The little boy obeyed and turned around to head back across the hall, but as he was retreating he turned around quickly, looking up at the tall man for the first time, then stated. "Mister, tell him to watch out for the waves." He warned as he pointed into Matt's room to indicate who _him_ was.

Mr. Ishida looked questionably into the little boy's gentle brown eyes, then asked, "The waves?"

The boy nodded quickly then added, "Yeah they're scary, and dark." With that warning the boy turned around and skipped away, heading back to his little sister's room.

For a moment Mr. Ishida was confused, but finally he gave up on the riddle about the waves, ridding it off as a child's nightmare, and turned back to his sons room.

With no one left to converse with, no one other then the other patient's older brother, who was sitting on a plastic chair outside of his brother's room reading a book with no expression on his face; the man decided it would be a good time to slip out and have a cigarette. The stress of the night's events had left him craving one for hours, and since Matt had yet to stir, he was sure it would be the perfect time to leave. He took one glance inside his son's room then walked down the hall, passing by the boy with his book, who looked at him coldly from underneath his glasses and spike hair. Mr. Ishida paid no attention to the boy's stare, and walked past him without a thought.

~*~*~

It wrapped and swished, softly, soothingly. The rhythm of swarthy waters was more soothing then wind chimes or water falls. It filled three of the hospital rooms, searching for the one that truly belonged to it.

Back in the hospital room a little blonde headed boy lay resting on starch white sheets. The room was dark and silent, but this did not stop the child from waking out of his fitful slumber. His eyes fluttered, then shot open, the blue eyes once clouded and glazed were now clear and frightened. Everything around him was dim and silent, and the waking world seemed little better then the plague of nightmares that seemed to come with his fever.

He was too exhausted to even attempt sitting up, but he was a smart kid, and even though he could not recall how he got where he was, he still concluded that he was in a hospital. After all it made perfect since, he felt sick, went to see his parents, and probably black out. They must have brought him to the ER, but if that was so then where were they now? Why was he alone? Did they just drop him off? Did they just throw him at the nurses and say, "Here, he's your problem for a while."? Why not, it made since. He was the one causing all of their fights; maybe getting rid of him was a good idea.

The waves grew louder, and now the wind could be heard whistling softly over the black depths. The waves had gone looking for one, and had found four. One of the four was found inadequate, her despair was merely temporary, and her powers fell short if what the darkness desired, and so she was abandoned. Two others had been found, two children with hearts full of light and kindness, which clouded the true darkness within them. Their futures were far too bleak, and though they held potential, they were not the ones the waves sought. 

Matt kept his eyes upon the dark ceiling above. The glow from the florescent lights, which illuminated the hall, shone through, giving the room a gray dismal feel.

Many eyes hidden by veils of gray fog looked on as the last was found. His heart was a frozen thrown, and his life was filled with loneliness and regret. The only quality that truly shone through his dismayed heart was the devotion he carried for those he carried about. Though this was an admirable quality, it was hardly something restricted to the light. Even the darkness cared about its own, and so the last to be found was the one the waves sought.

__

I wonder if TK's all right. I wonder when mom and dad will come pick me up, or if they're picking me up.

The waves grew louder, and the boy listened to them lull him away. The darkness had found the one it wanted, now his servants had to find the prize and perform the waves' wishes. And for some time it seemed as though the servants of darkness would never find the one its master had selected, that was until now.

The little boy shut his eyes and the waves carried him away.

~*~*~

Matt's eyes shot open quickly, his breathing was panicked and confusion was evident upon his face. His confusion only grew as he realized where he was. Moments again he was dreaming of his past, reliving his dreary childhood and the day he got terribly ill, but now it had seemed that he had woken from the past only to relive it in reality. 

Like his dream he was lying in a hospital bed. The white starch sheets crinkled beneath him as he shifted his weight. The room was gray and bleak, and he was alone. Slowly he looked down, half expecting to see the blue pajamas he was wearing the day he first went to the hospital, but to his surprise and horror, he was clothed only in black pants. His feet were torn up and bleeding, and his shoulder was killing him. 

He scanned over the room one last time, then swung his feet over the side of the bed. The sound of water splashing alerted the blonde's attention to the floor, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw the low level of black water upon the white tile floor. A stinging pain went through his feet, as the cuts were agitated by salty brine. Matt winced from the pain then brought his feet up, looking at the water curiously. 

He needed to know for certain if he was alone, and so making up his mind, he decided to crawl to the edge of his bed and look out into the hall. But as he was moving something held on tightly to his wrists and shot pain up his arms. He winced and nearly yelped in pain, before he turned to look at his wrist, his eyes widening with shock as they met two IV's. The IV's were jammed into his wrist, the needles seemed nearly as thick as the veins they were placed in. But this wasn't what worried him. What truly placed fear within him, was the tube, which ran from the needle into a transparent pouch handing on a metal stand. 

The pouches, which should be filled with some sort of helpful clear fluid, was a deep red. Matt felt woozy as he looked at the tubes running with blood. He felt even worse as he realized that the pouch was not emptying into his veins, but that his veins were emptying into the pouch. The transparent tubes and pouches were filling with his blood, and suddenly weakness past over him and he fell back into the bed. 

He wanted to remove the needles and stop the process, but it would do no good. The needles left such large wholes in his flesh that he was certain he'd bleed even faster if he removed them.

__

I'm bleeding to death. 

He could hear the water below, wrapping against the wheels and metal bars, which held up the bed. The water was slowly rising; the sound of waves soon began to over power the wrapping of the water. Darkness began to descend upon the boy, he watched in numb acceptance as the darkness fell completely upon him, blocking out the glow from the hallway. 

The blonde shuddered, he was feeling weak, and he was certain that the bags were almost filled. The water now splashed upon the bed, soaking the white sheets, and barely touching the tips of his fingers. Matt lost himself in the feeling of the cold water, touching his freezing flesh. He was already trembling from the blood lost, and the water felt strange as it began to rise around him, meeting the darkness that had fallen. He wince as it began to rise around his cut up feet and touch his abused shoulder. But the most pain came when it touched the large IV's sticking out of the eleven-year-old's wrist. He wanted to scream as his wrist began to burn, but he was too weak.

Salty tears of agony fell from his dark blue eyes, mixing with the black water around him. His breathing quickened a bit as he felt the water around him continue to rise, until it covered his legs, arms, and torso. His head was elevated, giving him just enough time to watch his body disappear beneath the burning water, before it rose to his chin.

A whimper escaped the blonde's mouth before he took a deep breath and prepared to drown. He shut his eyes tightly and the water overtook him. He floated in the water holding his breath with all of his strength, when suddenly he realized that the bed beneath him was gone. He wasn't certain why but something compelled him to open his eyes, and so he obeyed. Instantly the orbs were met with a horrendous stinging pain, but he ignored the pain, fighting his natural instinct to shut his eyes again. 

The bed was gone and there was nothing but an endless sea of water. The water appeared to be the blackest of blacks, and yet he could see everything clearly. He could see how the brine stretched out forever, and how no hope was in site. Deciding he could escape the ocean the same way he did before he attempted to swim to the top, but as he went to move a terrible pain shot through his wrists. Frightful, he looked down at his left wrist, his fears confirmed as his burning eyes fell upon the large IV still stuck in his wrist, with the metal stand and sack, which was not full yet, floating beside him. Quickly he glanced at his right side, finding the same circumstance. 

He didn't know what to do. He had to get out of the ocean. He had to breathe. Survival instincts kicked in, and he forcefully pulled on his wrist, yanking the IV's out. His flesh and vein tore and instantly a cloud of crimson diluted the black water. The transparent tube began to leek out the blood it had already collected, blood which spread through the water. Matt ignored the pain in his wrist, ignored the weakness, and began to fight his way to the surface, but with his wrist torn so badly his blood lost was immense, and after two strokes the blonde's efforts failed.

He was forced to take a breath, instantly his lungs filled with the ocean, while his blood emptied into the water. Darkness took over and he began to stink, falling willingly into the black depths.

He floated in an abyss of darkness until the feeling of sharp canine teeth biting on to his skin jolted him out of the nothingness. His time in the Dark Ocean did not even equal a tenth of a second in the Digital World. His partner called him back to the black cave, banishing all memory of his experiences in the World of Darkness to the farthest corners of his mind. Matt had forgot all that had occurred, and all he was aware of was the numbness that had taken the place of the sorrow in his heart. 

~*~*~

"Are you sure it was a good idea to send him back?" a gruff voice asked curiously.

"He has served his purpose for now. Let him go back to his _friends_. Let him fool himself into believing he belongs there." Another voice, entrancing and deep stated with little interest.

"So he really doesn't remember anything?" a sweet voice questioned.

"He chose to block it out, and he wasn't gone long enough for anyone, not even his partner, to notice his absents." 

Three beings, all unique in appearance stood inside a plane gray temple on top a mountain of agony. Eyes of three colors stared out upon the ocean below. Marveling at its beauty and magnitude.

"When the time comes the boy will come looking for us, and when he does we will finally achieve our goal." The voice of Spectermon expressed with pride, as she turned away from the balcony and walked towards the center of the temple, which was now dull and gray again. 

Once in the center of the floor the, phantom maid rose her hand, sending a silent command to the floor. Instantly a section of the floor answered and rose up, molding into a small round stand. With a small smile she placed a tiny wooden clock upon the stand. The clock's face had no numbers and six hands. One of the hands went round and round the clock in less then three seconds, another never moved, two went counter clockwise, one of them stayed on one side moving up and down, and the last two moved with the cycle of the tide. Below the pendulum of bronze moved back and forth keeping perfect time and rhythm.

"The boy will return before the pendulum makes its last sway." The porcelain skinned woman announced as she tossed some of her raven hair behind her shoulder.

"I still don't think it's a good idea sending him back, what if someone senses the change?" SkullSatamon questioned in concern.

Spectermon smiled wickedly then replied, "I drained his blood and filled it with the powers of darkness. His very soul carries the Digi-Mental of Darkness. However, these changes will be impossible to notice unless you know what you are looking for."

SkullSatamon nodded accepting the answer without further argument.

"So I guess now all we do is sit back and wait for the darkness to take its toll." BlackGatomon thought aloud.

Spectermon smiled as she looked upon the clock resting on the stand. "Pleasant dreams Yamato."

~*~*~

Well what do you think? If you have any questions then now is the time to ask them so that I can work the answer into the next fic. Also the next fic will feature the other Digidestined, especially Tai, TK, Kari, and even some Ken and Ryo, but it will of course center around Matt. Oh yeah and Gabumon will be in it to. The next part will be about Matt's second visit to the dark ocean as well as fill in some plot holes that the series left. 

Anyway tell me if you'll be sticking with this series or if this first one was enough. Oh and I plan on adding regular updates to my author's profile from now on to let people know when I'll be updating.

Be sure and check out The Fallen Ones, a shrine to fallen angel and demon type digimon. You can visit the site by clicking on the link on my profile. 

Please review, and so long until next time.


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